The Peacock
by The Kujaku
Summary: Ikkaku and Yumichika had nothing in common when they first met in Soul Society. In fact, Yumichika had good reason to keep the details of his life hidden. Add an awakening zanpakuto who is as egotistical as Yumichika and the mix gets even more interesting
1. Chapter 1 The Meeting at the Well

_I would like to add a couple statements before you begin, dear reader. This story starts off fairly gently but future chapters (and there are over 25 of them) contain some very rough scenes. There is detailed violence and there is seduction (without being sexually graphic). In addition, you will see that I use the term "kimi" actually as a term of endearment - which I know is not correct, but I liked the sound of it and lifted it from the Zanpakuto rebellion arc, where Ruri'iro Kujaku refers to Yumichika as "Kimi-san". Please forgive any misuse of the few Japanese terms I use . . . and enjoy!_

Chapter 1 The Meeting at the Well

"_It's lost now, all that age before I knew you.__  
><em>_Is it that forever is hard to find?__  
><em>_You made me recognize what I'd been leaving far behind.__  
><em>_Is it closing in on you, like it was on me?"_

_Saved by the Music__  
><em>John Lodge

Damn, it was hot.

And dull.

And he was bored out of his mind. Two weeks and not a single taker. Two weeks and not a single man bold or foolish enough to match swords with him. His frown deepened into a scowl. He'd passed through at least a dozen villages in those two weeks and covered a lot of ground in between. How was it possible that he'd not encountered even one soul willing to fight him?

Such idleness was not good for Ikkaku. It gave him too much time to think, too much time to notice his own awkwardness, his sense of not belonging. No matter where he went, it seemed that he just did not fit in. He wasn't surprised, though. He hadn't belonged in the world of the living, and he didn't belong in the Soul Society now. And he relished being an outcast. He relished his anger; he craved physical contests. He didn't know why the world felt so dull unless he was fighting, or why he viewed everyone else in terms of their potential as an adversary. The one thing he did know was that these traits made him unattractive and unwelcome to everyone he met. But he wasn't going to change. Why should he? What was so important about fitting in, about being wanted? If no one wanted him around, that suited him just fine. Quite frankly, he didn't particularly care for anyone else's company either – sometimes even his own.

He was coming to a village at the edge of a marshy area bordering what looked like a fair-sized inland sea. Skeletal trees hung with gray moss reached up from the murky water near the marsh's ambiguous shoreline. Here and there, interspersed among the trees, were structures like small sheds built upon stilts, rising up a meter or two above the water's surface. As Ikkaku drew nearer, the rank smell of marsh gas and decay drifted up to meet him, but the grimace he made was swallowed by the scowl already in place. He followed a well-worn path away from the marsh onto more solid ground, seeing not more than a hundred meters ahead of him, a village. He judged at least 1,000 inhabitants. Surely, he would find someone here.

He passed through the village streets, finding them empty; but this was expected. The heat was so stifling that it had driven everyone indoors. No one wanted to be out in such weather – including Ikkaku. Still, he was disappointed that his desire to match with someone would have to wait. He continued on clear through the village, finding on the far side, a grove of plum trees that offered some shade. He decided to rest here, and when evening fell and the villagers were more likely to come out, he would see what excitement could be found.

He settled against the trunk of the one of the trees and took a moment to assess his various wounds, accumulated over the past month or so. Most of them were well-healed or on their way to healing. There was a puncture wound in his left shoulder that was giving him some trouble. It had been made by a dull blade in his last battle, a four-against-one skirmish two weeks ago, and although it had not festered, it was not closing up either. And then there was a large abrasion that covered his left cheek and most of his jaw – the result of skidding across the ground in the same fight. Not to mention the fact that he was starving – an uncommon occurrence among the residents of Soul Society, most of whom never experienced hunger. Ikkaku, on the other hand, was insatiable, his appetite ravenous. And he hadn't eaten in . . . he'd lost count of how many days. He was starting to feel the effects of the deprivation, so the chance to get some rest was appealing.

He had just closed his eyes when the sound of someone humming met his ears. It was a soothing tune and a smooth, beautiful voice; but at the moment, when Ikkaku wanted nothing but silence, it was an irritant. Opening his eyes, he looked towards the sound of the humming to see a well just beyond the grove and one lone woman drawing water. The sight made him realize how thirsty he was. Irritant forgotten, he got to his feet and approached the woman. He sat on a stone bench near the well.

"Give me some of that water," he said flatly.

The woman turned and looked at him without speaking. But Ikkaku didn't need to hear the voice to know that he was looking at a man. The face was definitely masculine framed by hair the color of coal, worn in one of the most bizarre styles Ikkaku had ever seen, at least three different lengths in front, culminating in a long single pony-tail down the back, tied with a rose-colored ribbon. The man's eyes were a stunning violet, the sun making them glitter and twinkle. But what was truly peculiar was that he was wearing a woman's flower-patterned kimono, and he was doing woman's work – drawing water.

The man regarded Ikkaku for a few seconds before dipping a copper cup into one of the buckets and handing it to him.

Ikkaku drained the contents in one swallow and held the cup back out. "Some more."

The man slowly took the cup, eyeing Ikkaku with curiosity. He filled the cup again and gave it to him.

"So, what are you supposed to be?" Ikkaku asked derisively.

"Your manners are ugly," the man said placidly.

The response was not what Ikkaku had expected. "My manners?" he scoffed. "I got what I wanted, didn't I? Ugly manners or not."

The man looked at Ikkaku with appraising eyes. "You're not from here," he remarked in a lyrically condescending voice. "I don't recognize you."

Ikkaku downed the water again. "I'm here now. That's all that matters. Get me some more water."

"The bucket's right there. Help yourself," came the reply.

"Fine," Ikkaku shrugged, then said dismissively, "I'll help myself, and you can take a walk until I'm done drinking."

"Take a walk?"

"I don't want to look at you," Ikkaku sneered. "And I don't want you talking to me."

The man folded his arms across his chest. "And the reason for that is?"

Ikkaku grinned. "You're kind of a freak, aren't you?"

The man gave a pitying smile. "You should talk. A brute like you can't appreciate beauty even when it's right in front of you."

"Men aren't supposed to be beautiful," Ikkaku grunted.

"Everything should be beautiful," came the reply. "I can't stand ugliness, whether it be a person's actions, their appearance . . . or their manners."

"Huh, then you're in for a lot of disappointments. By the way, your own manners aren't very beautiful right now," Ikkaku shot back.

"How would you know? You don't even know what beauty is, or you'd be admiring me at this very moment."

Ikkaku dipped the cup into the water and drank. "You have some ego."

"The beautiful can afford to be egotistical," the man replied, sounding completely unperturbed. "You, on the other hand . . . well, it's too bad you don't take better care of yourself. You could be mildly attractive if you did."

That was enough. Ikkaku threw the cup aside and got to his feet, grabbing the folds of the man's kimono and lifting him onto his toes. "Are you trying to piss me off?"

"I think you were already pissed off when you came here," the man stated. "I'm just offering to help you. I could clean those wounds and mend that—that thing you're wearing."

Ikkaku studied the man's expression. There was no fear in his face. No fear at all. Rather, a sort of languid, unworried curiosity rested there, and Ikkaku was intrigued by it. Usually, the faces of those men he'd encountered in his wanderings had looked back at him with fear, loathing or anger – or a combination of all three. But not so this time.

"You're not even carrying a sword. You're not worth fighting," Ikkaku spat out, releasing the man and purposefully trying to provoke a reaction.

But the reaction was not the hostile one Ikkaku had hoped for. Instead, the man smoothed over the crumpled kimono in a delicate fashion. "If you don't want my help, that's fine." He yoked the two buckets, took them on his shoulders and began walking back towards the village.

Ikkaku stood unmoving for a moment, watching the man walk away. It was clear he wasn't going to be able to lure him into a fight. And Ikkaku wasn't even sure that such a contest would be satisfying. After all, he'd meant it when he said the man wasn't worth fighting. Ikkaku doubted that the man had ever even touched a sword.

But there were other considerations. After all, Ikkaku could use someone to take a look at his injuries. And his kosode did need some repairs. And perhaps . . .

"Do you have food?" he called out.

The man stopped and turned for a moment, looking like a dairy maid with the buckets swinging at his sides. "Yes, I do."

Ikkaku walked towards him. "Then I'll let you help me. But only if a meal is included in the deal."

Ikkaku did not see the smile that accompanied the man's quiet chuckle. It was the smile of someone who'd been assured all along of prevailing.

The village streets were still empty as they passed through, turning off onto a narrow dusty side road that eventually got lost in a maze of smaller alleyways.

Neither of them spoke for the first several minutes, then at last, Ikkaku asked, "What were you doing drawing water in the middle of the day? In this heat?"

"I needed it," the man replied carelessly.

"You know it's not normal to draw water in the middle of the day," Ikkaku pressed.

"Maybe it's not the usual, but I needed it and I didn't want to wait. Besides, it's less crowded this way," the man explained. "And I see that it hasn't occurred to you to offer to help me carry the buckets."

Ikkaku detected a hint of irritation in his voice, but he knew it had nothing to do with his failure to offer his assistance with the buckets. The man was acting as if the matter of when he drew water made no big difference, but Ikkaku knew better – and he was certain the man knew better as well. From years of traveling through village after village, Ikkaku had learned that certain things were the same in each place. Early morning and the evening were the two times for drawing water. The village women used the chore as a basis for social gathering. Around the well, in the cool of the rising or setting sun, they could gossip, barter, or do whatever women did – all as part of the trip to the well. The men would also gather, usually only in the evenings, and at a different location, for their own social interaction.

The fact of a man drawing water and drawing it in the heat of the day could only mean the man was an outcast, trying to avoid the others. This most certainly had to be the case, for while it was true that the man was as beautiful as he believed himself to be – more beautiful, in fact, than most women and certainly more beautiful than any man – he was peculiar and, if Ikkaku were any judge, arrogant about his peculiarity.

"I didn't think you needed any help," Ikkaku replied. "You seem to be doing fine on your own." He paused and a smile curled one corner of his mouth. "Besides, you need to carry both of them in order to stay balanced."

The man's only response was a smirk.

They continued walking and came at length to a small traditional machiya nestled between two larger run-down ones. From the outside, its appearance was modest, but upon entering, Ikkaku was stunned. Passing through a high gated bamboo fence, and then through a small, beautifully adorned garden, they came to the raised structure.

Inside, it was a single room, perfectly square, with a cooking area in the near right corner, a futon of luxurious proportions in the far right, and against the opposite wall what looked like a work area with neat stacks of fabrics, spools of thread, and all manner of tailoring instruments. The entire room was beautifully decorated in blues and emeralds, accented with peacock feathers. The atmosphere was warm and inviting.

"This is your place?" Ikkaku asked.

"Yes," the man replied, setting the water down in the cooking area.

Ikkaku decided that he'd come into a bit of good luck. "You live here alone?"

A nod.

"It's nice. You must do well," Ikkaku commented, strolling about for a better look, stopping at the wall of fabric. "You, uh . . . you make clothes?"

"Not just clothes. All kinds of linens," the man replied. "Some repairs. A lot of embroidery."

Ikkaku held up the item on top of one of the stacks. It was an obi, embroidered with an intricate pattern reminiscent of the styling found in northern Rukongai finery, but with enough originality to make it something unique. "You did this? It's good work."

"It's excellent work," came the reply. "My own design. It's for the village elder's wife." He began pouring the buckets into a large ceramic jar.

"Then she should be happy with it," Ikkaku commented, tossing it back on the pile.

"Mmm. Speaking of happy . . . I'd be happy if you would take off that thing you're wearing. It's disgusting and it smells. You smell. There's a basin out back and hot water on the heater. Go clean yourself up and put this on." He left his water buckets long enough to pull a blue kimono off another stack.

Ikkaku was about to protest, but his host had already anticipated this.

"I'll have a meal ready when you come back in."

That was all Ikkaku needed to hear. He took the kimono, and as he headed for the wash porch, he turned back for a moment. "I guess, if I'm going to stay here, I should introduce myself. Ikkaku Madarame."

"And now, I suppose you want to know my name," the man grinned. His voice took on its musical tone. "Yumichika Ayasegawa."

* * *

><p>Yumichika.<p>

Ayasegawa.

It was a strange name. But at this point, Ikkaku had decided that everything about his host was strange, the name least of all.

In the darkness, he could hear the evenness of Yumichika's breathing on the opposite side of the room; and for the first time in a long while, his thoughts were of something other than fighting, his emotions were something other than anger. He was consumed with wonder over his new acquaintance.

It wasn't enough that Yumichika had had no fear of inviting a complete stranger into his home, but he'd done everything imaginable to make his guest comfortable.

For starters, there had been the pristine washing facilities. Directly behind the house was a partly enclosed bathing porch unlike anything Ikkaku had ever seen. The tile was white with a violet design, the porch frame hung with white sheers, highlighted with gold weave. A magnificent full length mirror stood in one corner, opposite a smaller half-length mirror on the wall. There was a wall basin, a floor basin and a magnificent sunken bathtub in the floor. It was definitely the wash room of someone who loved to pamper and look at himself . . . it suited his host very well.

But that was only the beginning. After washing, there had followed the meal Yumichika had promised. It had been simple fare, but amazingly delicious. Yumichika was an outstanding cook. Not only that, but like Ikkaku, Yumichika had an appetite. In fact, such an appetite that Ikkaku wondered how Yumichika could be so slight when he ate so much.

From there, Ikkaku had yielded to Yumichika's ministrations in cleaning and binding his wounds, treating them with a home-made concoction from a jar he kept over the hearth. Afterwards, Ikkaku was exhausted, prompting Yumichika to turn over his own bed. It had still been light out when Ikkaku had sunk into the spectacular softness. He'd awoken in the dark at one point to see, through blurry eyes, the image of his host working by candlelight over some piece of cloth or other. He'd fallen off again, and now upon waking, the candles had been doused and all was silent except for the sound of Yumichika's breathing.

In an unexpected way, it was comforting. In fact, everything about Yumichika had been comforting. He'd provided everything and asked for nothing. Ikkaku had been waiting the entire afternoon for the other shoe to drop, but it never did. Even Ikkaku's defiant, derisive demeanor had not been able to shake Yumichika's sense of hospitality.

Maybe, just maybe Ikkaku could stay here a few days. He never stayed in one place very long. He tended to wear out his welcome rather quickly after picking fights with the locals. Maybe here he would find a few diversions. Tomorrow, he would go into the village to see what was about.

Yumichika was up before dawn. As always.

It wasn't that he needed to be up so early; only that it was ingrained in him somehow. He could not bear lying in bed after waking up – and he had a built-in alarm clock that had roused him just before sunrise for as long as he could remember. He always made use of the time, and this morning was no exception. He sifted through the stacks of material until he came to a sturdy gray weave. It would be perfect to replace the hideous and hideously worn garment his guest had been wearing yesterday. If he worked quickly, he could have it ready before Ikkaku woke up. He didn't need to take measurements, nor did he need the old outfit as a guide. Yumichika had a good eye – not just for beauty, but for size and dimension.

He worked quietly, peering over occasionally to his own bed where Ikkaku lay still sleeping – and rather noisily, at that. But that told Yumichika it was a deep sleep, probably a contented sleep; and that gave him a sense of satisfaction, for he had the idea that Ikkaku did not experience much peace. Indeed, the anger had been palpable in him from the first moment of their meeting. Ikkaku had been searching for a fight and found none. He'd accepted Yumichika's offer of help, but Yumichika was not fooled into thinking the search was over. He wasn't even sure that he was off the list of possible contenders.

But that didn't worry him. He knew how to take care of himself, how to diffuse tense or dangerous situations. He had certain talents in which he had great confidence, and so Ikkaku's belligerence had not dissuaded him.

Quite the opposite, in fact. What had piqued his interest was the anger. Where did it come from? What could be the cause? It had felt, to Yumichika, like a general hatred for everyone and everything with no apparent basis. There had been something risky about welcoming such anger into his home; but curiosity had overpowered prudence, and so Yumichika did not regret his decision to invite Ikkaku for a stay. Not to mention that Yumichika truly could not bear the sight of ugliness, and Ikkaku had been just that upon their encounter. Yumichika had decided immediately to attempt an improvement.

_"Well,"_ he thought, holding up the kosode to examine his work, _"If I can't improve his manners, I can improve his appearance."_ He smiled his satisfaction with his work, set the kosode aside, and began the task of preparing breakfast.

It was not long before the smell of grilled fish lured Ikkaku out of his slumber. Rolling over, he asked, "What are you making?"

"It's kibbeling," Yumichika replied. "Do you like that?"

Ikkaku made a sound that could have meant any number of things. "What time is it?" he groaned.

"Seven o'clock."

"Seven o'clock? Why are you making breakfast so early! Who gets up at seven o'clock?" Ikkaku shot upright and his eyes fell on Yumichika, already fully dressed. "You're—how long have you been up?"

"Since four-thirty," Yumichika replied diffidently. "Now, will you please lower your voice before you wake up the entire neighborhood?"

Ikkaku glowered at him. "I'm going back to bed."

"Breakfast will still be here when you get up," Yumichika replied.

Ikkaku threw himself back down and pulled the covers over his head. But it was too late. After a few seconds, he sat back up. "Damn you. Now I can't sleep."

Yumichika grinned pleasantly. "Well then, since you're up, come have some breakfast."

Ikkaku rolled out of bed with a dramatic flourish. "I've never heard of anyone getting up so early. This is ridiculous. My stomach's not even awake yet. I can't eat anything right now."

"You can go back to bed—"

"I told you, now that you've woken me up, I can't get back to sleep!" Ikkaku stood up and headed for the wash porch. "Make sure you have some tea ready."

Yumichika shook his head with a grin as Ikkaku disappeared out the door. "_So, fighting isn't your only hobby. You like to complain, too._"

Still, he made sure he had the tea ready and waiting when Ikkaku returned to the table. He placed the kibbeling in the center, along with some rice and nori, and then he sat down and began to serve.

"I can serve myself," Ikkaku stated. "Men don't serve men. And you're not a woman." He paused and looked at Yumichika's posture. "Although you sit like one."

Unlike Ikkaku, who sat cross-legged, Yumichika sat with his legs folded beneath him, leaning back on his heels. And although it was a common posture for men and women, Yumichika lent to it a delicate aspect that could be classified as dainty.

Yumichika poured the tea. "And you sit like you just stumbled out of a sake bar."

Ikkaku liked the sound of that. "You got any sake?"

"Not for breakfast," Yumichika replied. He continued serving and changed the subject. "You slept well?"

"Until a few minutes ago," Ikkaku replied, taking a sip of the tea and raising an eyebrow at how good it was. "But that bed is too soft."

Yumichika ignored the barb. "You seemed to need a good night's sleep."

Ikkaku shrugged and bit into the kibbeling.

"So, what brought you here?" Yumichika asked, trying to elicit something from Ikkaku's flippancy.

"You did," Ikkaku quipped, taking another bite.

"I mean, to this village."

"What's the name of this place, anyway?" Ikkaku asked.

Yumichika sighed. "Mito Village."

"Hm," Ikkaku finished his fish and reached across the table to take another serving. "So, is it as dull as it seems?"

"It may seem dull to you," Yumichika replied, wincing at his guest's table manners. "I like it. But you haven't answered my question. Why are you here?"

"It was just another village in my wanderings," Ikkaku said.

"Your wanderings?"

"Yeah." Ikkaku pushed his cup across the table, prompting Yumichika to pour him more tea, conveniently forgetting his earlier opposition to being served by a man. "I don't like staying in one place for very long."

"So, where is your home?" Yumichika asked, handing the full cup back over to him.

The question rankled Ikkaku. "Why do you want to know? You ask a lot of questions. What difference does it make where my home is? You want to know? I don't have a home. I haven't had a home since I came to Soul Society." He paused, then added petulantly, "I don't want to be tied down."

"I see," Yumichika said quietly, then trying to quell an obvious surge in Ikkaku's anger, he took an innocuous tack. "There are a lot of souls that enjoy wandering. Soul Society has a lot of beautiful things to see."

Ikkaku scowled. "And a lot of ugly ones, too."

"Well, at least you've got a beautiful one right now," Yumichika crooned good-naturedly.

Ikkaku felt the tug of a smile despite himself.

Yumichika noticed it, too; and he knew the tense moment had passed. He also knew that if he wanted to learn more about this stranger, he would need patience.

When they had finished breakfast, Yumichika gathered up the dishes.

Ikkaku stood up and stretched. "Where are my clothes?"

Yumichika's face lit up like a lantern and he went over to his work area. He held up the kosode he had made that morning. "I made this for you."

Ikkaku stepped forward, looked at it, took it in his hands and examined it. "It's too long," he objected.

"It's not too long," Yumichika replied. "It's only longer than your old one, and that one was too short. It was almost obscene."

"It's too stiff. I can't fight in this," Ikkaku continued his protest.

"Then you're not much of a fighter," Yumichika prodded. "It allows for movement, it—"

"I like my own clothes better. Where are they?" Ikkaku demanded, tossing the kosode aside.

Yumichika simpered. "Your old clothes were disgusting, and you were disgusting in them, so I burned them." A mock sheepishness crossed his features as he picked up the kosode and held it out again.

"You—burned them?"

"Yes." He stretched his arm out further, offering the kosode with greater vigor. The next thing he knew, Ikkaku had knocked his arm aside, grabbed him with both hands, and driven him backwards until he came up against the wall, knocking over all manner of sewing implements.

"What the hell do you mean, you burned them?" Ikkaku raged.

Yumichika was calm. "I took them out back this morning and burned them in the water heater. They don't exist anymore."

"You had no right to do that! Those were _my_ clothes!"

Yumichika sighed. "This is the second time you've grabbed me like this. If you're going to beat me up, just get on with it."

Ikkaku's eye twitched. He wanted so badly to beat the daylights out of someone. And Yumichika certainly gave him reason: he was arrogant and bossy and just plain weird. He deserved a beating. And here was the chance.

So, why couldn't Ikkaku bring himself to carry through on his threat? He could posture with Yumichika, but he could not do what came so naturally to him with everyone else: he couldn't be violent towards him.

And so, faced with Yumichika's taunt, he let loose a great groan of exasperation and released him. "Why are you so damn frustrating?" he charged.

Yumichika smiled. "I frustrate you? You don't know what frustration is."

"Are you implying that I'm frustrating?" Ikkaku demanded.

"And rude and impolite and noisy when you sleep and sloppy when you eat—"

Now, Ikkaku could not suppress a wicked grin. "Drives you crazy, eh? Well, it's exactly how I want to be."

"I believe you."

"And nothing's going to change me," Ikkaku went on defiantly.

"If that's the way you like it," Yumichika shrugged. He reached over and retrieved the kosode. "But it would be nice if you wouldn't grab me anymore. You're going to ruin my clothes. And speaking of clothes . . . will you at least wear this? I put a lot effort into it."

"How much effort could you have put in? We only met yesterday." Ikkaku took the garment. "You were probably already making it for someone else"

"That's not true," Yumichika protested. "I made it this morning before you woke up."

"This morning? You're trying to tell me you made _this_ and breakfast before I got up?" Ikkaku asked in a skeptical voice.

"Yes," came the direct answer.

Ikkaku knew somehow that he was hearing the truth. "Then you're pretty handy to have around." He paused. "Even if you can't handle a sword."

Yumichika folded his arms across his chest. "Why do you say I can't handle a sword?"

"Well, you don't seem like the sword-handling type," Ikkaku replied. "And I don't see one anywhere."

"Hmph!" Yumichika made an odd, flouncing movement as he turned away. "I'm not aware that there's a particular type that wields swords. And besides, I don't fit neatly into any category except 'beautiful'."

Ikkaku grinned. Clearly, he had hit a nerve. "Wow, did I ruffle some feathers?"

"Just go get dressed," Yumichika said in a clipped voice.

But Ikkaku was having fun. "No, no, no. All right, so am I wrong? Can you handle a sword?"

"Why do you care?"

Ikkaku cocked his head with mock carelessness. "Oh, just trying to figure out if you're _worth_ fighting."

"Do you plan on fighting me?" Yumichika asked. "Is that why you took me up on my invitation? I don't see why you want to fight anyone in the first place." He turned away to resume the dishes, but Ikkaku took hold of his sleeve.

"Don't try to change the subject. Just answer my question. Do you know how to use a sword?"

Yumichika gave a dramatic sigh. "No. There, are you satisfied? I'm not worth fighting after all, so I don't expect you to manhandle me again."

Ikkaku burst out laughing. "I knew it! I knew it! What kind of man doesn't know how to handle a sword?"

"One who's about to kick you out of his house," Yumichika replied, sounding offended.

"Oh, come on, Ayesegawa-san. It's just a little fun, that's all, "Ikkaku said lightly.

But Yumichika was still smarting. "You know, there are other ways to defeat an enemy besides fighting him."

"Sure, but who wants the boredom of starving an enemy out by siege?" Ikkaku said, sounding as if the very idea had left a bad taste in his mouth.

"I wasn't talking about a siege," Yumichika replied, his back still to Ikkaku as he plunged the dishes into the water. "There are other ways."

"What other ways? Or what other ways that are as exciting as battle?" Ikkaku demanded.

Yumichika set his shoulders and turned to face him. "Ways you would never appreciate."

His violet eyes were as piercing as his voice was penetrating, and for a moment, Ikkaku could not speak. His thoughts were jumbled, and he could do nothing but stare back into Yumichika's eyes. Then the moment passed, and he recollected himself.

Before him, Yumichika stood with a smug expression. "You see?"

Ikkaku shook his head. "See what?"

"You were completely distracted for a few seconds. If I'd wanted to, I could have made it last longer," Yumichika replied.

"What are you talking about? I wasn't distracted," Ikkaku protested. "What, do you think you can hypnotize people by looking at them?"

"Something like that."

"That's ridiculous—"

"It's my beauty. It mesmerizes people," Yumichika said in such a matter-of-fact voice that there was no doubting his sincerity.

Ikkaku laughed, but it was not a genuine laugh. There had been truth in Yumichika's words, and it was disturbing. Still, Ikkaku was not going to admit it. "Men don't find other men beautiful or mesmerizing, although I suppose you're not bad to look at, as far as that goes," he said with carefully fabricated nonchalance.

"There's that jealousy again," Yumichika sighed. "It's always the same."

"I am _not_ jealous of you," Ikkaku protested. "In fact, I pity you, cause you don't know how to fight. And that's what we were talking about, so don't try to change the subject again."

Yumichika resumed cleaning the dishes without saying a word.

"So, do you want me to teach you how to fight?" Ikkaku asked.

"No." Yumichika's voice was soft, and Ikkaku could tell that he had definitely upset his host, still he was not going to let that stop him.

"Why not? You should be able to defend yourself—"

"Fighting is ugly—"

"It doesn't have to be," Ikkaku cut him off, then he was struck with an idea. "You could take any activity and make it beautiful."

"Don't patronize me," Yumichika snapped. "I'm not stupid. I don't want to learn how to fight. Now, stop pestering me. I have to clean these and then go the morning market."

Ikkaku was surprised. "The morning market?" He had not expected Yumichika would venture out during prime time.

"Yes, and I'm already behind schedule, so either help me or leave me alone."

Ikkaku chose the latter. He changed into the kosode Yumichika had made for him and when he came back in from the porch, it was to find Yumichika standing at the door, a basket on his arm.

"Will you still be here when I get back?" Yumichika asked.

"Better than that. I'm coming with you," Ikkaku replied.

Yumichika looked surprised for a moment. "I meant, will you be staying here again tonight?"

"Sure, why not?" Ikkaku shrugged. "You've got a nice place. And you can cook."

Yumichika rolled his eyes. "I'll choose to take that as a compliment instead of a matter of utility."

Ikkaku could not resist the urge to poke fun at him. "But you _are_ useful."

Yumichika did not miss a beat. "It remains to be seen if the same can be said for you. But please do me a favor. Don't pick any fights while we're at the market. I have to live with these people, and I prefer to stay on good terms."

"I'm not making any promises," Ikkaku grinned. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>The streets were just beginning to come alive as they headed for the market place.<p>

By the time they reached the village square, where the market was set up, Ikkaku had come to the conclusion that his initial impression of Yumichika's status in the village had been far removed from the truth. Yumichika was not an outcast at all. This became increasingly evident, the more people they encountered. Certainly, there were curious looks, but more than that, there were friendly greetings; and Ikkaku was certain that the curious looks were due to _his_ presence. Yumichika seemed to be well-liked and on the good terms he deemed so important.

Yumichika's first stop was a vegetable stand where he was met by the vendor – an attractive woman whose eyes, when they were not regarding Ikkaku with wariness, wandered up and down Yumichika's body with ill-concealed lust. Yumichika might have noticed her wanton gaze, yet he gave no indication. His demeanor was pleasant and self-assured as he conducted his business; but if he were bartering, it was the easiest bartering Ikkaku had ever seen.

"So, what will it be today, Ayasegawa-san?" the woman asked. "I put aside all the best for you. I think I still owe you for my last purchase."

Ikkaku took stock of his surroundings while Yumichika engrossed himself with picking out vegetables.

There were a good number of men out and about, giving Ikkaku much to look at and consider as potential opponents. His stern countenance garnered a number of disapproving glances and whispered comments – from both men and women. But he liked this. If he could make them distrust and dislike him from the very beginning, it would make it easier to fight them in the future. And so he intensified his glares and deepened his scowls.

After several minutes, Yumichika regained Ikkaku's attention, and they headed for the next vendor, which turned out to be a distiller's shop in one of the side streets.

Again, Yumichika was greeted with warmth and something bordering on excitement by the owner, a robust man with a ruddy complexion and a receding hairline. There was some small talk, then the man reached beneath the counter and brought out three jars.

"Three of my finest. That should even us up," the man said with a wide grin.

"Three? That's wonderful." Yumichika sounded pleasantly surprised.

"Well, it's been a while since you last came by the shop, but I've been keeping track of what I owe you," the distiller explained.

"That's very good of you," Yumichika replied. "You know I don't drink much, so I'm only now coming to the bottom of the last batch you gave me."

"Was it good?"

"Perfect," Yumichika complimented. "I'm sure this batch will be just as good."

"You can try it out on your friend," the distiller suggested, looking at Ikkaku. "Do you like sake, sir?"

Ikkaku looked sideways at him and remained silent.

"Is that a yes or a no?" the man asked.

"It's a 'don't ask me', " Ikkaku replied. "I'm not interested in mindless banter."

Yumichika visibly blanched, then in a barely controlled voice, he said, "Madarame-san, would you wait for me outside?"

Ikkaku grunted and left the shop.

"Youni-san, I'm sorry for that," Yumichika apologized the moment Ikkaku was out the door. "He's—his manners are terrible. I'm sorry."

"Who is he? I've never seen him before. Is he a friend of yours?" Youni asked.

"Not exactly," Yumichika replied. "I—I met him yesterday and he needed some help, so I took care of him a bit."

"Huh," Youni puffed, then his smile returned. "You sure know how to pick 'em."

Yumichika chuckled. "You're telling me. I have a soft spot for hard cases."

He put the jars in his basket, gave Youni a wink, and walked out to retrieve Ikkaku, who was waiting right outside the store.

As they began to walk again, Yumichika did not hesitate. "Was it necessary to be so rude?"

Ikkaku grinned. "Probably not, but it made me feel good."

"Well, it made me feel terrible. You embarrassed me in front of a regular customer, and as if that—"

"You make clothes for that man? He's the size of a house, and I'm surprised someone as egotistical as you even does business with a man that ugly," Ikkaku interrupted.

"I asked you not to cause any trouble!" Yumichika burst out in frustration. "Does it mean nothing to you that these are my neighbors, my customers, my—"

"Okay, okay, shut up! I get it. I won't say another word," Ikkaku groused.

"While you're at it, you can stop glaring at everyone, too," Yumichika added.

"Look, why don't you just tell me to get lost if I bother you so much? I'm only hanging around for the food anyway. It certainly isn't for the company," Ikkaku said pointedly.

Yumichika was on the verge of an enraged retort, but instead he drew in a deep breath, clenched his teeth and resumed walking.

Ikkaku continued beside him. "So? Tell me to get lost."

"You're such an idiot," Yumichika said under his breath.

"Stop mumbling. If you've got something to say, be a man and say it out loud," Ikkaku taunted.

But Yumichika did not take the bait. He simply kept walking.

Seeing that Yumichika could not be drawn into a confrontation, Ikkaku backed off. He followed at Yumichika's elbow, and at last they entered the final stop on their outing, which was a fabric shop. The instant Yumichika passed through the door, the shop's owner swooped down upon him like a carrion bird.

"Yumichika-san! It's good to see you! How long has it been? A week, at least," the man chattered away. "I've been saving some glorious new fabrics for you. I haven't shown them to anyone else. Come back and see them."

Yumichika smiled. "In a moment, Hinsamoi-san. I need to look at thread."

"Of course, of course. Take your time. When you're ready, we'll go into the back," the man said enthusiastically, then he froze for a moment as he noticed Ikkaku for the first time. "Ah, are you with Yumichika-san?"

Ikkaku did not reply but only stared back with a feeling of intense dislike. Suddenly, his antagonistic enjoyment of baiting Yumichika disappeared in the presence of this new acquaintance. He could not explain the immediate revulsion he felt towards the man, but he relished the idea that perhaps he had stumbled upon his first opponent. The man, Hinsamoi, was perhaps a little older than Ikkaku, sturdily built, and handsome. Like Yumichika, he had a strange delicate manner about him; but unlike Yumichika, he came across as an exaggeration of that delicacy.

When Ikkaku didn't answer, Yumichika spoke up. "This is Ikkaku Madarame. He's a guest."

"A guest?" Hinsamoi asked.

"He'll be staying with me for a few days - perhaps," Yumichika replied.

Hinsamoi studied Ikkaku for a moment. "I think I saw you yesterday passing through the village." Met by Ikkaku's silence again, he asked, "You came to visit Yumichika-san?"

"I just met him," Ikkaku said flatly.

Hinsamoi cast Yumichika a glance that bespoke a warning. "Taking in strangers? That's not like you, Yumichika."

Yumichika put a hand on Hinsamoi's arm. "I just felt like it. I'll be perfectly safe."

Here, Ikkaku stepped forward. "Yes, he will."

Hinsamoi looked from Ikkaku to Yumichika then back to Ikkaku. "Then you're welcome in my shop. Perhaps I could interest you as well in some fabrics."

Yumichika laughed. "Madarame-san has no interest in such things. But I'm anxious to see what you've got for me." He guided Hinsamoi into the back room, shooting Ikkaku a warning glare of his own.

Ikkaku returned the look and took some inner satisfaction at Yumichika's discomfort. He strolled around the shop in boredom while waiting for Yumichika to finish his business, which did not last long.

When Yumichika emerged from the back, he had his arms full of fabrics and Hinsamoi's arm around his shoulders. The gesture was enough to fill Ikkaku with disgust. It had a possessive aspect to it, and Yumichika had not struck Ikkaku as one to be possessed.

"Madarame-san, would you help me carry some of this?" Yumichika asked.

Ikkaku responded by taking all the fabrics. "You can carry the other stuff."

"Thank you." Yumichika was almost demur. It seemed to Ikkaku to be very artificial, but he said nothing.

"So, Yumichika-san, I'll see you soon," Hinsamoi said, walking them to the door. "We can discuss payment later. Make something beautiful."

As soon as they left the shop, Ikkaku spoke up. "I don't like that guy."

"What a surprise," Yumichika replied in a voice that clearly bespoke its owner's rapidly approaching limit of accommodation.

"Hey, I didn't do anything to piss him off," Ikkaku defended himself.

"I know," Yumichika said curtly.

"He just started saying that stuff on his own," Ikkaku went on, sounding accusative as well as defensive.

"I know," Yumichika replied, placid and smooth. "He worries about me. I'm his best customer, and he gives me very good deals. Of course, he'd be worried about me taking in a stranger."

"Is that what you heard?" Ikkaku asked. "That's not what I heard."

"You only just met him. I've known him for years. I think I'm better qualified than you to judge his words and their meaning," Yumichika stated emphatically.

"And I've been all over Soul Society. I've been to villages, towns and cities. I've encountered more people in one day than you've probably seen in your entire existence. I can read a man's unspoken words," Ikkaku challenged.

"And what _unspoken words_ did you hear from him?" Yumichika asked, in a voice that was clearly making fun.

"He thinks he owns you."

Yumichika laughed. "Well, at the moment, with what I owe him for these fabrics, he does _own _me."

"That's not what I meant," Ikkaku snapped.

"I know what you meant," Yumichika replied. "And you're wrong. He's protective, that's all." He gave a faint smile and shrugged. "I don't see why you're concerned about it. Hinsamoi is my acquaintance, not yours. You never have to see him again if you don't want to."

"Yeah, but if you're doing business with him, I'll end up seeing him whether I want to or not," Ikkaku grumbled.

Yumichika turned his head and regarded him with a now cheerful gleam. "Then that means you'll be staying with me for a while?"

Ikkaku looked as disinterested as possible. "I already told you I'd hang around a bit."

"A place to sleep and food to eat?" Yumichika spoke the assumption.

"What other reasons would I have for staying? Especially since you won't let me fight."

"I won't _let_ you? You talk as if I could stop you," Yumichika sniffed.

"Well, let's just say I'm going to honor your request," Ikkaku replied, adding deviously, "Until a really good opponent comes along. And you know, that bastard back there is someone I'd love to beat the crap out of."

"Madarame-san, please promise me you won't pick a fight with Hinsamoi. I can't afford to make him angry. He's very powerful in the village, and I need him for the work I do," Yumichika implored.

Ikkaku rolled his eyes. "Okay, for crying out loud, don't beg."

"Give me your word," Yumichika pressed.

"As if my word means anything," Ikkaku scoffed.

"Doesn't it? It should. You should be a man of your word—"

"Oh brother," Ikkaku groaned. "Fine, fine. Just stop lecturing me."

"Not until you give me your word."

"All right! I won't pick a fight with him," Ikkaku surrendered, anything to get Yumichika off his case. It might have been his first surrender ever, and that rankled him so he added for his own edification, "Unless he gives me good reason."

* * *

><p>"So, what now?"<p>

Those were Ikkaku's first words upon returning to Yumichika's home.

Yumichika began putting away his purchases. "Well, I have work to do. I have to finish that obi for the elder's wife. I'm supposed to deliver it this evening. Plus, I have a few more projects to work on."

"Hmmm, I guess I'll have to find a way to entertain myself," Ikkaku said out loud, although he had addressed the comment only to himself.

Yumichika responded anyway. "You could help the farmers in—"

"Stop right there," Ikkaku held up his hand. "I'm not a farmer."

"You don't have to be a farmer to help out," Yumichika replied.

"What other villages are nearby?" Ikkaku asked, diverting the subject.

"The nearest is Meeha, a two-hour walk to the north. Sender is about three hours to the west. Why? Do you plan to go there looking for someone to fight?"

Ikkaku crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall. He smiled in anticipation of another war of words and wills. Despite all his protestations, he had to admit his own surprise at how much he enjoyed baiting and arguing with his new acquaintance.

"You don't want me to fight in this village, and I told you I'd honor that request," he said smugly. "So, I'm going to check out the other villages."

"Did it ever occur to you that I do business in those villages, too?" Yumichika asked, still focused on putting things away.

"Come on, Yumichika, the people in other villages won't know that I'm staying with you—"

"You're already to the point of calling me by my first name?" Yumichika interrupted. "There are those bad manners again."

"I'm not into all that honor bullshit," Ikkaku replied derisively.

"Clearly," Yumichika harrumphed, making a point of sauntering over to his work area.

Ikkaku's eyes narrowed deviously. "Maybe you'd like it better if I referred to you as . . .kujaku-sama. You're proud as one, and—"

"As beautiful," Yumichika interjected with a confident, provoking smirk. He caught sight of himself in one of the many mirrors adorning the walls. "No, more beautiful."

Ikkaku smiled in humor. "You're an interesting character, you know that?"

Yumichika looked at him sideways, a glint in his eye. "I know." He began sifting through the stacks of material. "Well, wherever you go, try not to overdo it. I don't want to risk anyone finding out that you're my guest and my business suffering because of it." He paused then added, "And I don't want to have to put you back together if you lose."

Ikkaku's smile turned into arrogance. "I never lose."

* * *

><p>Yumichika held up the obi for his own inspection. He drew in a proud breath; it was a beautiful piece of work, one of the finest he had ever done. It had taken him over six weeks, which was unusual, for he was skilled in not only in design but in speed as well. But he had gone into painstaking detail on this one, and he was already anticipating a beautiful payment. Now, he had only to deliver it to the village elder's wife, and he'd still have plenty of time to take care of some other errands that needed doing.<p>

He stepped out into a balmy evening. He locked the door then stopped to reconsider. Ikkaku had left that morning right after they had come back from Hinsamoi's. It had been before noon, and there was no question that he could make it to any of the nearby villages and back easily in one afternoon. But the truth was that Yumichika did not believe that Ikkaku would be returning. Mito had been stifling to him; he had set off in search of the fight for which he had been hungering, and Yumichika was sure he would find it. Even if he didn't find it, it was unlikely he would return to Yumichika. The question was whether food and shelter were more desirable than fighting.

Somehow, Yumichika felt Ikkaku valued the latter more than the former. He left the door locked.

It was past midnight when Yumichika came home. He was tired but content with the day's business transactions. He would certainly be able to buy some nice things with the profits.

"You're home late."

Yumichika startled and looked up to see the silhouette of Ikkaku sitting on the roof just over the door.

"You came back," Yumichika said as Ikkaku jumped down to the ground.

"Of course, I did. I told you I would. You look surprised." Ikkaku sounded pleased that he had caught Yumichika by off-guard.

"I know, but . . . well, I thought that once you got to one of the other villages, you might find more excitement and decide to stay there," Yumichika explained.

"Well, there was some action," Ikkaku admitted, "But the prospect of a warm bed and a hot meal drew me back."

"You want a meal at this hour?" Yumichika asked.

"All that fighting made me hungry," Ikkaku replied.

Yumichika's gaze wandered in scrutiny over his face. "And undid all my work patching you up yesterday."

Ikkaku grinned. "So, it'll give you something to do tonight."

"I already had something planned for tonight – sleep," Yumichika said, opening the door.

"Well, the night's already half gone. Where were you? I've been waiting here for almost two hours." Ikkaku followed him inside.

"I had things to do," Yumichika replied casually.

"Things that kept you out until this hour?" Ikkaku pressed. "Sounds interesting."

"Don't be lewd," Yumichika chastised. "Go sit down and I'll make you something to eat."

"I'm going to clean up a bit first," Ikkaku announced.

Yumichika smiled to himself. A small improvement, but improvement nonetheless.

An hour later, Ikkaku leaned back in tired satisfaction. Again, Yumichika had delivered a tasty meal, looked after his injuries, and done so without complaint.

Ikkaku had recounted his journey to Meeha village, his short-lived bout with two men, easily defeated, and his uneventful walk back to Mito. Yumichika had listened, expressed his relief that the two adversaries had apparently been transients and therefore, not likely any of his customers, and even laughed at Ikkaku's description of the dullards inhabiting Meeha.

"Of course, it's not so different from here," Ikkaku remarked. "This place is as boring as it comes. You're the only interesting thing here."

"Thing? I'm a thing?" Yumichika feigned insult.

"Well—"

"You could have at least said _beautiful _thing," Yumichika prompted.

Ikkaku grinned. "I thought that went without saying."

Yumichika actually colored, and that made Ikkaku grin even more.

"Don't tell me I embarrassed you," he challenged.

"No," Yumichika replied. "I just . . . well, I know you like to make fun of me."

"I wasn't making fun of you," Ikkaku protested. "You think you're beautiful. Apparently, so do others in this village. So, it goes without saying. You don't need to keep reminding me."

The crimson deepened in Yumichika's cheek. "Sorry."

Ikkaku congratulated himself silently. He had succeeded in humbling Yumichika, but he didn't want 'humbled' to turn into 'humiliated'.

"Besides," he said, standing up to take his own plate to the kitchen area. "I have eyes. I can see it for myself."

This remark brought a pleased smile to Yumichika's face, and he joined Ikkaku at the basin. "I'll take care of those."

"I've got it," Ikkaku insisted. "Why don't you go to bed?"

Yumichika brightened even further. "You're offering to help."

Ikkaku gave him a sideways glance. "Just to prove to you – I do have my uses." He paused. "But can I assume that you won't be getting up before the crack of dawn since we're going to bed so late?"

"Hm, I can't guarantee that. But I promise I'll be quiet enough that you won't hear me," Yumichika replied.

"No cooking?"

"Okay," Yumichika conceded. "Not until you wake up." He began putting together his makeshift bed.

"And I'm not going to kick you out of your own bed again," Ikkaku stated.

Yumichika was smiling fully now. He was pleased with Ikkaku's improved thoughtfulness, but he was not particularly surprised. After all, he had confidence in his beauty and its ability to overcome even the most hardened of hearts.

"That's fine," he said. "I'll just make this up for you then."

"I can do that myself—"

"It's not a problem, Madarame-san. I don't mind," Yumichika insisted. And that was the truth: he really didn't mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 The Maroon Room and Paikuu

_"I lie awake for hours. I'm just waiting for the sun,  
><em>_When the journey we are making has begun.  
><em>_Don't deny the feeling that is stealing through your heart,  
><em>_Every happy ending needs to have a start."_

_You Can Never Go Home  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p><em>"Are you coming?"<em>

The voice reached through Yumichika's sleep like a breeze whispering through the eaves. It had a vaguely familiar sound, yet it gave Yumichika a feeling of intimacy more profound than any other he could recall.

_"Something has moved you. Don't go back."_

Yumichika opened his eyes onto a strange darkness. He knew right away he was no longer in his machiya. He sat up slowly, and as his surroundings became clearer, he found himself staring in wonder. He was in a room that seemed to be without dimension. The walls, if they could be so defined, were hung in maroon, accented with glinting pieces of glass woven into the fabric and strands of gold thread running like royal veins. There were furnishings of cherry wood and cyprus that would have been found in the room of a king.

He was sitting in the middle of a bed that was as large as his entire house, surrounded by linens and pillows so exquisite that even he could not have imagined them. There were also cages—hundreds of them—as far as he could see, ornately gilded and as a tall as a man. All empty. They seemed to move freely, having no fixed positions. The glass in the curtains and the gold of the cages reflected a dim light, the source of which Yumichika could not pinpoint, revealing the turquoise blues and greens, the azures and ivories of what appeared to be floating strands of filament, some thin as a silk thread, others as thick as the trunk of a tree – all rotating slowly, undulating and alternately sparkling and then falling into darkness.

Yumichika had never seen anything so beautiful, so tantalizing. Not even his own reflection. He stood up in the middle of the bed and turned a full circle – or what he thought was a full circle. He couldn't be sure, for his surroundings were shifting constantly.

"Where am I?" he whispered, and then as if in reply, he felt the presence of a powerful riatsu. He had not noticed it until now, as if his first words had somehow loosed it.

_"That's hard to explain."_ It was the same smooth, full voice that had spoken before.

"What—what is this place?" Yumichika asked, looking around him for the source of the voice.

_"This is the place where I exist,"_ came the reply.

"Who are you?"

_"That will be up to you. I belong to you, after all."_

"You belong to me?" Yumichika sounded as puzzled as he felt. "Where are you? I want to see you."

_"You can't see me. I have no physical being yet."_

"No physical being? How can that be?"

_"You haven't brought me into being as anything other than a thought,"_ the voice replied, and Yumichika detected a sense of patronage in the voice, as if he were being addressed by someone much wiser and more experienced than himself.

"But what _are_ you? What thought?" he asked.

_"The thought that made me—"_

"I understand that, but I have a lot of thoughts, so _which _thought are you?" Yumichika persisted.

_"I'm what you want. You created me. I exist now. I will always be here, even if you never think of me again,"_ the voice explained. _"But you _will_ think of me again – and often."_

Seeing that he wasn't going to get a clear answer to any of his questions, Yumichika decided to try a different tack. "I can feel your riatsu. It's strong."

_"It's _your_ riatsu,"_ the voice said emphatically.

"My riatsu? I—I don't have a riatsu like this."

_"You do. I'm proof of that."_

Yumichika put his hand to his forehead in confusion and dropped back down into a sitting position. "I don't understand any of this."

_"That's because you're not ready to understand yet. For now, you just need to know that I'm here, and you should start getting used to my presence."_ There was a pause. _"And ask yourself what has happened that you have finally given life to me."_

Yumichika shook his head helplessly, at a loss for words.

_"Go back to sleep. You'll come again. We have all of eternity to get to know each other."_

Yumichika's surroundings began to fragment and dissipate. The powerful riatsu faded.

He was asleep.

* * *

><p>"You know, what if I had been some thug last night, hiding out and waiting for you to come home so I could rob you?"<p>

Yumichika looked at Ikkaku across the breakfast table and sighed pointedly.

"I'm not afraid of that sort of thing," he replied.

"You should be. What would you do if—"

"Do we have to go into this again? And at breakfast?"

"Breakfast is as good a time as any," Ikkaku insisted. "Just because you don't have an answer doesn't mean we shouldn't talk about it. I hate men who can't fight."

Yumichika simpered. "And I hate it when my house guests insult me."

"Wow, you're in a bad mood this morning," Ikkaku grinned. "I guess you really didn't get enough sleep, eh? No more late nights for you."

Yumichika shrugged. "I can get by just fine on a couple hours sleep."

"Then what's wrong? You've hardly said a word all morning," Ikkaku said. "You changing your mind about me staying here?"

"No, no," Yumichika replied. "Nothing like that. I just . . . I had a weird dream."

"A nightmare?" Ikkaku asked, stuffing two bites into one.

"No."

"Then what?" Ikkaku prompted him.

"It was . . . I don't know, weird. But that has nothing to do with my mood this morning," Yumichika said. "I just want you to lay off me about learning how to fight. I'm _not _interested. And I think you're being very presumptuous as a new acquaintance—"

"Presumptuous?" Ikkaku challenged. "Me? You're joking, right? You're the one who _presumed_ to burn my clothes without asking me. You're the one who _presumed_ to tell me not to fight in the village. You're the one who _presumes_ to tell me what I should and shouldn't do at every turn. You're not just presumptuous; you're bossy. So what if I tell you that you should learn how to fight. You should. Every man should know how to fight."

Yumichika gave an exasperated groan which was more dramatic flourish than genuine exasperation, got up from the table, and retreated to the wash porch.

Ikkaku watched him go. He couldn't figure it out, but there was something different about his host this morning. Yumichika seemed preoccupied, and the attentiveness of the previous day, while still present, was not nearly as pronounced. Clearly, something was on his mind, although Ikkaku doubted that it was the result of a mere dream. Instead, he figured that it had taken only two days for Yumichika to recognize his error and that he was now regretting his decision to invite Ikkaku into his home. Still, Ikkaku knew Yumichika would not throw him out. He didn't know how he could be so sure of this, but he was. And so, he could bide his time. If whatever was bothering Yumichika continued to be an issue, it would come out sooner or later.

* * *

><p>By late morning, Yumichika was set on the day's business. Today it was the evening market in Paikuu, a two-hour trip over the inland sea. He was taking a duffel full of items he had made.<p>

And Ikkaku.

Actually, Ikkaku had invited himself, but Yumichika was agreeable.

At the edge of the sea, there was a small boat-letting operation run by a toothless, bulge-eyed man who looked as if he had spent his entire existence on the water, his skin tanned and leathery, his head topped by a frazzled crown of sparse, white hair. He appeared genuinely happy to see Yumichika, and when Yumichika drew a sturdy, finely made hanten out of his duffel and placed it in the wrinkled hands, the old man's joy was complete.

"Iz wonderful, Yumichika-san," the man said. "Won' be long 'fore the cold starts comin'."

"We have a few months, at least, Kaekae," Yumichika replied with such a gentle kindness that Ikkaku almost forgot about the narcissism that seemed to be Yumichika's defining characteristic. "In the meantime, enjoy the summer. It's a beautiful day."

"Yae, but the weather's gon' turn. I can feel it in ma bones," Kaekae said. "Ya goin' cross to Paikuu? Ya won' be able ta come back tonight. Water'll be rough. There'll be a storm 'fore nightfall."

"Thanks for the warning," Yumichika smiled. "We may stay overnight, then."

"Don' sink ma boat," Kaekae said.

"I won't," Yumichika chuckled. "Keep the lantern lit in case we do come back tonight."

"I'll keep it lit, but ya bes' not try ta come back tonight," Kaekae insisted. "Ya know how quickly storms come o'er the water." He looked at Ikkaku. "Make sure he don' do nothing rash. He's na'always the smartest, this one."

There was nothing disdainful or distrusting in the man's voice or countenance. And Ikkaku found himself responding without flippancy or rudeness. "I will," he said simply.

With that, Kaekae led the way to the end of one of the piers, untying a rowboat as Yumichika climbed in with such a familiarity that it was obvious this was a common activity for him. He took the oarsman's seat while Ikkaku settled opposite him. Within five minutes they were out into the water, beyond earshot.

"You giving things away for free?" Ikkaku asked once he was sure no one else could hear him.

"What do you mean?" Yumichika asked.

"You didn't make him pay for that hanten," Ikkaku explained.

"He's already paid for it," Yumichika replied. "He lets me use the boat for free."

Ikkaku narrowed his eyes. "That hanten you made is worth a hundred of these boats."

"You're exaggerating."

"Maybe, but you know you could buy your own boat with what you'd get if you sold that cloak in a marketplace," Ikkaku went on. "This is hardly a fair trade."

Yumichika smiled. "I think it's fair. Kaekae's never asked me for anything other than the standard fee. That alone makes him my favorite person to do business with, and well, does he look like he could afford to pay for that hanten?"

His words struck Ikkaku as odd and perplexing. "He's supposed to ask you for the standard fee. How does that make him so great? What, do others overcharge you for whatever they're selling? It didn't look that way yesterday."

Yumichika's smile faltered somewhat. "All my business transactions are fair."

Ikkaku was not about to be shut down by such a vague statement. "I wasn't asking about _your_ transactions. I was asking about the people who sell _to_ you. You're implying that they're not fair, that they overcharge you."

"No, I'm not," Yumichika insisted, the smile still in place but purely artificial now. "You're misunderstanding me. Whatever bartering goes on between me and the other vendors is absolutely fair—I could even say I get the better end of the deal every time."

"From what I saw yesterday, that seems to be true," Ikkaku replied. "But what about here? Why are you so generous with that man?"

Yumichika hesitated. At last, he said softly, "Because he's poor, and I pity him."

A sly grin crept into Ikkaku's expression. "I'm poor. Do you pity me? Careful how you answer that."

"Of course, I don't pity you – not for being poor, at least," Yumichika replied, adding with his own mischievous glint, "But for being a dull brute with ugly manners and very little appreciation for beauty and—"

Ikkaku leapt to his feet, snatched the duffel off the floor and held it out over the side. "Keep talking and there'll be some well-dressed fish down there tonight," he threatened playfully.

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," Yumichika apologized.

Ikkaku resumed his seat. "You know, maybe I was wrong about you," he began. "You do care about something other than yourself."

"This morning you called me presumptuous and bossy—"

"Hold on a minute. You called me presumptuous first," Ikkaku defended. "And you _are_ bossy. But I didn't peg you for the type to care about other people, unless you felt they could be of some use to you."

"Huh! Taking you in should have been proof of that! What use to me are you?" Yumichika challenged.

"Just admit it: you're a sucker for anyone in need," Ikkaku stated. "You couldn't say no even if you wanted to." He had still been speaking in a joking manner, so when his last statement had the unexpected effect of raising Yumichika's hackles, he was stunned.

"Why should I say no if it's in my power to do something for someone?" Yumichika demanded, his voice edgy. His knuckles turned white around the oars in his grasp. "Why should I say no if—if it's beneficial to both parties?"

"Yumichika—"

"You choose to live through bullying and off the good will of others. I choose to make a living and share what I have," Yumichika said in a rush, as if the words were burning his tongue as he spoke. "And if one of the things I have is beauty, then I will put that to use, as well."

Ikkaku drew his brows together in bewilderment. "We weren't talking about your looks, Yumichika; and even if we were, it wouldn't be a big deal to learn that you use your looks to get bargains and deals. People like looking at beautiful people. But you made it sound like you were getting the short end of the stick—"

"That's not what I said," Yumichika snapped. "You accused me of not being able to say no, and I'm telling you that saying no just for the sake of saying no is thoughtless. Not only that, it's cruel."

"What the hell is wrong with you today?" Ikkaku asked. "You're acting like a woman."

Yumichika's face clouded over. "Go to hell."

"That's it," Ikkaku said firmly. He stood up, stepped over the duffel and took Yumichika by the arms, pulling him to his feet. The oars slipped out of Yumichika's hands and bobbed in the oarlocks as Ikkaku spun him into a bearhug. "I don't know what's gotten into you this morning, but you need to cool off. You're going right over the side if you don't stop acting like an idiot."

"Stop it!" Yumichika's voice fell somewhere between a demand and a plea. "You're going to tip the boat!"

"Not until you promise to stop acting like this," Ikkaku countered.

"Let go of me! You're the one who's acting like an idiot!"

Ikkaku maintained his hold. Yumichika's struggling was half-hearted, clearly out of fear of capsizing the boat; but it came as a surprise to Ikkaku, because what he was feeling in those struggles was a far greater physical strength than he had given Yumichika credit for. True, the body fighting against him was slight and sinewy, nowhere near approaching his own strength; yet it was not a weak body, and even restraining his own strength at the moment, Yumichika was definitely in danger of turning the boat.

"If you don't stop fighting, _you're_ going to flip the boat," Ikkaku warned.

"Then let me go—"

Yumichika had barely finished speaking before he found himself plunging headlong into the water. Coming to the surface, he drew in an outraged breath and, pushing his hair out of his eyes, glared up at Ikkaku who was staring down at him with reasonable satisfaction.

"Why did you do that?" Yumichika cried out, swimming back to the boat.

"Because you were going to capsize us, and you refused to calm down," Ikkaku replied.

Yumichika swung his arm over the side and hung there in the water, pausing to catch his breath. "You're lucky I know how to swim."

"If you'd started to drown, I would have jumped in and saved you," Ikkaku grinned smugly. "Come on, I'll help you get in."

"Just a minute," Yumichika replied. "It actually feels pretty good."

"See? It worked," Ikkaku said triumphantly. "You're in a better mood already."

"I was never in a bad mood," Yumichika corrected. "You just like to purposefully get on my nerves."

Ikkaku considered. "Okay, that's true. But you have to admit, you haven't been yourself today."

Yumichika raised his head and eyed him doubtfully. "You've only known me for two days. Did you think in those two days you would come to know everything about me? Maybe this is how I am most of the time."

"Eh, I don't believe that," Ikkaku said dismissively, reaching down to take Yumichika's arm. "But let's not start arguing again. Next time, we might really end up going over. Come on." With one swift movement, he pulled Yumichika into the boat, depositing him on the rear gunwhale while he took the oarsman's seat. "I'll row the rest of the way."

"Look at me," Yumichika lamented. "I look like a bilge rat."

Ikkaku did not even try to conceal the humor he felt. "You'll dry out by the time we reach the other side. In this heat, it won't take long."

"Well, at least the water won't ruin the fabric," Yumichika said, slipping the soaked garment off over his shoulders and examining it for damage as he stood in nothing but a fundoshi. "It took me a long time to make this. It's my favorite traveling outfit."

Ikkaku wanted to laugh at Yumichika's strange absorption with his clothing, but he restrained himself for fear of starting up another spat, which he did not want. Instead, he busied himself with rowing and noting that this was the first time he was seeing Yumichika less than fully clothed. Not surprisingly, the rest of Yumichika's body had the same white, porcelain quality that his face had. He was perfectly proportioned, and as Ikkaku had felt earlier, tending more to the lithe side than the muscular. On top of that, there was a gracefulness and fluidity that seemed not merely to belong to his movements but to his body itself.

"_It's not a fighting body,"_ Ikkaku thought, _"But it could be."_ Then out loud, he said, "Why don't you try to catch up on some of the sleep you lost last night."

"I think I will," Yumichika said as he spread his kosode out over the middle bench to dry and sprawled out over the broad boards of the gunwhale. "See that knoll over your shoulder?"

Ikkaku turned to look. On the far horizon the shoreline was visible as a gray wavy line. Slightly off to the right was a bump on the line. "Yeah, I see it."

"Head towards that."

With Yumichika now quiet, Ikkaku was surrounded only by the intermittent cry of a seabird, and the sound of the oars dipping and pulling. Opposite him, he could see that Yumichika had fallen off almost immediately, and he was glad for that. He had some thinking to do, and trading jabs with Yumichika didn't exactly lend itself to thoughtful contemplation – even if his thoughts were of Yumichika.

The truth was that he could not understand why he had stayed with Yumichika. What was he doing? When a person irked him, he moved on. Or he was encouraged to move on. He'd always landed on his feet somehow. He didn't need someone else to feed him or cloth him or shelter him. He didn't even need someone to tend his wounds. And Yumichika had certainly been irritating enough to drive him to distraction. But even with this morning's foolishness, Ikkaku could find nowhere in him the desire to leave. He couldn't even be angry with Yumichika. In fact, he had found the entire episode funnily entertaining. And although he knew that something was truly bothering his host, he would not pursue it, no matter how curious he was.

_"Ahh, why do I even care?" _Ikkaku asked himself , frustrated and perplexed with the very fact that he had an interest in the goings-on of someone else's life. He hated and reflexively avoided attachments, but how was he going to convince himself that he was not developing some kind of attachment to Yumichika? _"He's useful. And he can be pretty funny. That's it."_

But as he rowed on and the sun's heat intensified, threatening to burn the fair-skinned sleeper opposite him, Ikkaku found himself rummaging through the bag of sale items until he found a kimono to drape over Yumichika's body.

An hour and a half later, he was nearing the shore. He nudged Yumichika with his foot. "Time to get up."

Yumichika stirred, stretched with a yawn, and sat up slowly. Noticing the kimono as it slid to his waist, he asked in a drowsy voice, "What's this?"

"I took it out of your bag," Ikkaku answered. "You would have burned up in this sun."

Yumichika smiled. "You did that? I thought, after how mad you were at me, you would have let me suffer."

"Normally, I would have, but I didn't want to listen to you whine and complain for the rest of the day," Ikkaku said flippantly. "Where should I put in?"

Yumichika shook his head with a resigned grin and chose not to take the bait. Instead, he replied, "You can put in at that strip of sand there to the right."

"You don't want to go into the town itself?" Ikkaku asked.

"No, head for the sand," Yumichika replied.

"We'll have to walk farther, and you've got that sack to carry. It makes more sense to go into the harbor," Ikkaku suggested.

"It's not far, and there's something I need to do outside of town first. Head for the sand," Yumichika insisted.

Ikkaku did as instructed with no more disagreement. He brought them in at the far end of the sandy strip. Together, they pulled the boat up onto the shore. Yumichika took his kosode, now dry and only slightly wrinkled, and got dressed. Then he lifted the sack out of the boat and slung it over his shoulder.

"We've got a few hours before the market starts," he announced. "Let's go."

Ikkaku followed him on a well-worn path away from the beach and up into the wooded mountainside.

"Where are we going?" Ikkaku asked.

"It's a place I like to visit every month or so," Yumichika replied.

"What is it? What's there?" Ikkaku pressed.

"Nothing special," Yumichika replied. "Or nothing that would be special to you. But it's special to me."

"What is it?" Ikkaku asked again.

"Wait til we get there," Yumichika said.

Ikkaku gave up. He followed Yumichika in silence for the next three-quarters of an hour as they went further up the mountainside, leaving the pathway to cut through the forest and coming at last to a small glade that caught the afternoon sunlight as it filtered through the trees. The sound of a mountain brook could be heard not far in the distance, filling the glade with a bell-like tinkling. In one corner, where the grass met the woods, there was the ruin of a small wooden structure.

It was a beautiful place with an almost magical aspect to it. But even so, to Ikkaku it was nothing more than a spot in the woods.

He watched as Yumichika set down the sack and strolled slowly across the glade, gazing about him in a dream-like manner. He stopped in the center of the open space, closed his eyes and raised his face to the sky.

Several minutes passed. Ikkaku still had no idea what they were doing in this place, and he was growing impatient. He crossed the glade and stood beside Yumichika, interrupting his reverie.

"What is this place? We're in the middle of the woods, and there's nothing here."

Yumichika looked at him with an unperturbed grin, then he walked to the edge of the glade and sat down on a moss-covered rock outcropping. "This is where I arrived in Soul Society."

Ikkaku raised an eyebrow in surprise and took a long look around. "Here? In the middle of nowhere?"

"It's beautiful," Yumichika said, speaking wistfully. "It was the perfect place for me, because it was peaceful and . . . I was scared back then."

"Scared to come to Soul Society?" Ikkaku asked.

Yumichika nodded. "Scared of that . . . and . . ." His voice trailed off.

"Why? What was there to be scared of?"

"That's a story for another time," Yumichika replied. "Right now, I'd just . . . I'd like to . . . can you give me a few minutes?"

Ikkaku smirked. "You really are strange. But sure, take your time. I'll go look around."

Yumichika didn't even notice when Ikkaku left. The feeling he got whenever he came to this place overpowered his awareness and every other sensation. There always seemed to be memories bubbling just beneath the surface, and he didn't even need to reach those memories in order to feel the sense of belonging and security that he had experienced in the past.

He stood up and walked back to the center of the glade, dropped down on his back in the grass, closed his eyes and relished the feeling of sinking into the earth, of becoming one with the beauty surrounding him.

_"I can make you feel like this all the time."_

Yumichika's eyes shot open, but he was not looking at the glade. Or he was, but it had taken on a very different aspect. The colors had become exaggerated and sparkling; the sky was a glowing azure. And stretching down from that sky came the vines, undulating and rotating with a grace and beauty all their own.

"What are you—what are you doing here?" Yumichika demanded.

_"I'm always here. I'm with you wherever you go."_

"But I'm not asleep, and I'm not dreaming. I don't want—I don't want you here," Yumichika protested. "This is my place, and I—you don't belong here!"

_"I belong wherever you are. I'm a part of you."_

"No! You're not real. You're just a dream! I must—I must have fallen asleep, and I just don't know it," Yumichika insisted.

_"You _are_ asleep. But I am here, I'm real. Why are you afraid of me?"_

"I'm not afraid!" Yumichika retorted. "I don't want you!"

_"Then why did you create me?"_

"I didn't create you! I don't even know what you are—"

_"I told you. I'm what you want the most."_

"I don't know what that means," Yumichika groaned. "Just—leave me alone. Madarame-san will be back soon, and I don't want to act—I don't want to act that way again in front of him."

_"I don't invite myself,"_ the voice replied. _"You bring me."_

"Then I'm sending you away—"

_"You can't send me away. I am a part of your own soul."_

"I don't want to listen to any of this. Not here, not in this place."

_"This place makes you happy. Why should I not be here with you?"_

"Because you don't make me happy!"

_"Not yet. But we must come to know each other." _There was a pause. _"If this place is important to you, it is important to me."_

"It _is_ important, so can't you—wouldn't you please leave me alone – for now? For the next few minutes?"

"Yumichika?"

Yumichika opened his eyes. The glade was restored, and Ikkaku was looking down at him.

"Did you fall asleep?"

Yumichika sat up slowly. "No."

"Sure looked that way," Ikkaku stated. "I've been wandering around these woods for over an hour. I kept coming back to check on you and you looked asleep to me."

"An hour? But I just—are you sure? An hour?" Yumichika was stunned.

"Over an hour," Ikkaku replied. He reached down a hand. "There are some clouds moving in. You can hear the thunder coming."

Yumichika accepted his hand and got to his feet. "I can't believe I was—an hour!"

"Well, we'd better hurry if we want to reach the town before the rain gets here," Ikkaku said, slinging the sack over his shoulder.

"You don't have to carry that," Yumichika said.

"We'll move a lot faster if I do," Ikkaku replied curtly. "Now let's go. Lead the way."

They headed east through the woods, coming to the outskirts of the town just as the leading edge of the storm arrived, pushing the wind out before it, whipping the dust in the streets, and bringing residents rushing to their windows to draw them closed.

"I guess the market is canceled," Ikkaku ventured, shielding his eyes against the dirt-filled wind.

"Most of the market is indoors anyway," Yumichika replied. "Turn right at the next street!"

Ikkaku did as instructed. After going down the road about 100 meters, he and Yumichika came to a series of hangars. Yumichika directed him into the first one. Inside, hundreds of people were already milling about – vendors in their booths and customers.

For Ikkaku, it was more than a goods market. The throng of humanity, many of whom were men, presented him with more opportunity than he had dared to hope for.

But as if he had sensed Ikkaku's excitement, Yumichika was already speaking. "No fighting, Madarame-san."

Ikkaku gave him a sidelong glance that was neither agreement nor disagreement – simply an acknowledgment that he had heard Yumichika's words.

Yumichika led the way through the crowd and from one hangar to the next, as all the hangars were connected with short, covered walkways. The third hangar they came to was very different from the other two. There were no booths. Instead, there were enclosed stalls with glass windows for potential customers to look inside and see the business being proferred. Yumichika strode purposefully through the hangar, coming to a stall halfway down the rear aisle. It was empty. Yumichika opened the door and went inside, where there were three tables, one in the middle and two against the side walls. There were waterfall display rods protruding from the rear wall.

Yumichika went directly to two frosted glass kerosene lamps, and by lighting them, filled the stall with a beautiful diffused glow.

Ikkaku set the sack on the center table. "You, uh, rent this place?"

Yumichika nodded. "But only once a month. The rest of the time, a local businessman uses it." He chuckled. "Truth is, he owns it and lets me have it for free once a month. Well, not exactly for free. I always make something nice for him as payment; but even so, he's one of my best customers. He's a very wealthy man. He has several other stalls and deals in ceramics, waxes, spices and oils, perfumes. And he likes to look the part and have unique items."

Ikkaku helped him remove the items from the sack. "You're something else. On one hand, you give away high quality stuff to poor dock-keepers who can't afford to pay you a thing. And then you have wealthy clients who would probably pay you whatever you ask."

Yumichika cocked his head in a self-deprecating manner. "I make just enough to be comfortable."

Ikkaku coughed his disagreement. "You live more than comfortably, Yumichika. I'd say you do very well."

Yumichika smiled but said nothing.

No sooner had the first items been displayed than the first customers arrived: two middle-aged women with extravagant tastes and equally extravagant funds. They were obviously acquaintances of Yumichika's.

"Yumichika-san, oh, these have been the longest four weeks ever!" the first woman proclaimed. She was tall and stately and dressed in a manner that suggested she could have easily had access to the best tailors in the Rukongai. But from her fawning manner with Yumichika, it was clear she held him in great favor. "You must have something gorgeous for me!"

"I do, Loma-sama," Yumichika replied, reaching into the sack and rummaging about for a few seconds. He drew out a red and orange silk kimono, decorated with bird images. "I made it especially for you."

The woman fell into raptures. She took the garment in her hands, held it up in front of her and stood before one of two full-length mirrors mounted on the walls.

"It's splendid!" she enthused, then turning to her companion, "Kenenei, what do you think? Isn't this one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen?"

Kenenei joined in the admiration. "It's a work of art. Ayasegawa-san, you've outdone yourself again. I hope you have something in that bag for me."

"Of course," Yumichika replied.

Ikkaku watched with detached interest for the next ten minutes as Yumichika finished up his business with the two women. During that time, a skeletal man somewhere in his late thirties entered and looked through the items out on display while he waited for Yumichika to finish with the two women.

Before they left, Loma asked, "Will you be dining at Imakao's tonight?"

Yumichika had barely opened his mouth to respond when the skinny man spoke up. "Of course, he will."

Yumichika and both women turned to regard the man.

"Ah, Masaka-san, I didn't see you come in," Yumichika said with a shallow bow that immediately made Ikkaku's stomach turn, especially since he knew that all of them had seen the man come in.

The two women were less formal. "Daika, did Imakao send you to make sure our favorite guest shows up tonight?"

Masaka was diffident, his manner disturbingly effeminate. "His Lordship sent me to look over the linens. We are in need of table dressings. I believe this was communicated to you on your last visit, Ayasegawa?"

"It was, and I've brought several patterns for Imakao-sama to look over," Yumichika replied. He reached into the sack.

"Besides," Masaka went on, "With the weather, there is no way Ayasegawa can go back over the Ulandsee. Naturally, he will stay on the estate."

"Very good. Then we shall see you tonight, Yumichika," Loma said. "Good evening."

She and Kenenei departed.

Yumichika drew out at least two dozen samples of table linens. He took one sample out of the pile. "I think this one would be very pleasing to Imakao-sama. It's made from—"

Masaka waved his hand. "That doesn't interest me. Save it for his Lordship."

"Oh, of course, Masaka-san" Yumichika said with that infuriating bow again. "It's just that I thought you said you came to look over the linens—"

"I see you've brought samples with you. That's as much as I needed to do. Imakao-sama will want to deal with you directly." A sneer came into his expression. "As always."

"Yes, of course. I didn't mean to—"

"Just make sure you don't try to overcharge his Lordship."

Ikkaku took a step forward to stand in front of Masaka. "You keep cutting him off in the middle of a sentence," he said dauntingly. "I suggest you let him finish."

Masaka regarded Ikkaku with the same disdainful look he had been sporting since walking into the stall.

Yumichika sprang into action, placing his hand on Ikkaku's arm. "It's all right, Madarame-san. Masaka-san is right. Imakao likes to make such selections for himself, and I'm sure Masaka-san has a lot of other stops to make before returning to the estate.

Masaka turned a baleful glare to Yumichika. "You know this man?"

Yumichika looked stricken for an instant, his pale skin flushing red in the cheeks. "Yes, he's come with me from Mito. He's an acquaintance."

"And where will your acquaintance be when you come to his lordship's house tonight?" Masaka asked, and it was clear from his voice that he was not inviting Ikkaku to the evening's festivities.

There was only the briefest hesitation before Yumichika replied, "He'll be with me."

"He's not on the guest list," Masaka sniffed. "No one will be permitted entry who is not on the guest list."

"Could you not put him on the guest list?" Yumichika asked.

"Hold it, Yumichika," Ikkaku interrupted. "I don't think I want to go to any dinner that this jerk has a say in." He brushed off Yumichika's gentle grip and postured in front of Masaka. Still speaking to Yumichika, he added, "And I don't think I want you to go either."

Yumichika pushed past Ikkaku, pressed the samples into Masaka's arms, and ushered him towards the door. "I will be there tonight. Please give these to Imakao-sama, and let him know I will be bringing my payment tonight to deliver to him personally."

"Make sure you come alone." And with that, Masaka departed.

Yumichika drew in a deep breath, set his jaw and turned to face what he knew was going to be another butting of heads.

"I'm not going with you tonight," Ikkaku stated directly.

A vocal sigh escaped Yumichika's lips. "I don't blame you," he said. "Masaka has always been an ass."

"Why did you let him treat you like that?" Ikkaku demanded.

"He's the head of staff at Imakao's residence," Yumichika explained. "It's important that I stay on his good side."

"Why? If this Imakao guy likes your work so much, his clerk isn't going to do anything to jeopardize his position by pissing you off," Ikkaku replied.

"He's more than a clerk. He runs the household. He could cause problems for me, no matter how much Imakao might like me," Yumichika said.

"Well, I'm not going tonight. You're on your own," Ikkaku said.

"I understand," Yumichika replied. "I won't try to convince you to come with me. You'd probably be bored, and well . . . the very sight of Masaka will be too much temptation for you." He paused. "There are a lot of places in town that you can stay at. I'll make arrangements and payment—"

"Stop it, Yumichika," Ikkaku cut him off with a grin. "I can take care of myself. You go to your dinner, and I'll meet you tomorrow at the boat mid-morning."

"What if it's raining?" Yumichika asked.

"Then I'll meet you outside this place, under the awning," Ikkaku replied.

Yumichika seemed sad or disappointed. "Are you going now?"

Ikkaku nodded. "No offense, but this selling clothes and stuff – it's not my thing."

"You aren't going to look for a fight, are you?" Yumichika asked.

"If I find one," Ikkaku replied. "But this is a big town. No one will know I'm with you."

"Madarame-san—"

"Look, just be glad that I'm not insisting on going with you tonight," Ikkaku warned.

Yumichika cocked his head in acquiescence. "Okay, fine. But help me take the rest of this stuff out of the bag first."

Ikkaku sighed loudly. "Give me that sack." He turned it upside down and dumped out the contents. He held up a brown kosode with gold woven highlights. "Where does this go?"

Yumichika directed the placement of the items with meticulous precision.

"What on earth is this?" Ikkaku asked, drawing out a skimpy collection of strands of brown cloth, joined together in some way by gold clasps and fine gold chains.

Yumichika colored. "Oh, that's for Imakao. That's—uh—that's payment for the stall."

"_This?_" Ikkaku was incredulous. "He wears _this_?"

"Well, uh . . . he, uh . . " Yumichika stammered, "I guess it's what he likes. He, uh, he likes to have . . . oh, I don't know! I just know he likes stuff like this."

Ikkaku started to laugh. "Look at you. You're so embarrassed you can't even speak." He looked at the garment again. "It's pretty risqué." He gave a sideways glance at Yumichika, poking fun at him. "I'm surprised that you could design something like this."

Yumichika raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I don't know," Ikkaku replied. "You just don't seem like you'd have the idea for something like that in your head."

"It's a thing of beauty," Yumichika replied, "And it makes its wearer beautiful, as well."

"If you say so," Ikkaku said, shaking his head doubtfully, then, "I think that's the last of it. You mind if I head out now?"

"No, go on. Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow," Yumichika replied. "Oh, wait! You don't have any money." He reached into a small pouch tied at his waist and drew out two silver coins. "Here."

"This is a lot of money, Yumichika."

"Then bring me back what you don't spend."

Ikkaku gave a curt nod and turned on his heel. He retraced his way out of the hangar, emerging into a sky that, while still dark with clouds, had ceased pouring forth rain – for the moment, at least. He looked up and down the gravel road and chose to head to his right.

A lot of people were in the streets, hurrying from point to point, hoping to arrive before the rain resumed. Ikkaku sized up several formidable-looking men, but he made no provocations. The truth—and he could hardly believe it—was that he was not in the mood for a fight. He was in the mood for . . . food. And sake.

It was a perplexing feeling. Ikkaku had never not been anxious for a fight – or a confrontation at the very least. But this evening, it was different. Perhaps, he had spent too much of the day arguing with Yumichika, and that had somehow drained the contentiousness out of him.

He strolled from street to street, looking for any tavern that looked enticing. He found one at last on a far-removed side street. From the outside, it was modest and quiet. The smells wafting out into the street made his mouth water. Stepping inside, he decided he had made a good choice. It was a small establishment with only half a dozen tables, decorated in dark colors with low light emanating from paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling and mounted on the walls.

He sat down, and a woman came to wait on him.

His first order: a flask of sake.

* * *

><p>It was raining again.<p>

Yumichika scowled at his bad luck. The market had closed fifteen minutes ago, and the instant he had stepped out the door, the rain had started. Imakao's estate was a twenty-minute walk, and he would be soaked by the time he got there.

For the briefest moment, he considered staying in the town, maybe trying to find where Ikkaku had gone and joining him. But that thought was short-lived. He needed Imakao's patronage, and so he dared not disappoint. He knew he was expected, and a little rain was not going to pass as an acceptable reason for him to no-show.

He pulled a cloak out of the duffel and drew it tight around his body, setting off at a brisk pace through the city streets, now dark and mostly empty. When he finally drew up to the grand entrance to the estate, he was met by the gatekeepers, who ushered him through without question.

At the door, Masaka received him with a look of distaste and condescension. "Look at you. You aren't fit to be seen," he stated, his voice dripping with repugnance. "Your usual room is prepared. Go make yourself presentable. I will send the servants to assist you. The guests have assembled in the hall of mirrors. Make sure you're there in thirty minutes. His lordship is anxious to see you."

Yumichika gave a slight bow and headed past him towards the great staircase. He knew the way and was eager to be away from Masaka, so he moved quickly up two flights of steps and down a long carpeted hallway to a room at the end, where a fire was already lit and a hot bath prepared.

Yumichika dropped the sack just inside the door, took off his soaked cape and tossed it over the clothes rack in front of the fire place. He went to shut the door just as the promised servants arrived. Two petite middle-aged women who were all business and anything but demur.

"Off with these wet clothes, Ayasegawa-san," the first woman said, untying his obi while the second woman went over to the sunken tub and poured a vial of scented oil into the water. "You're going to get sick running around in the wind and the rain. You're shaking already . . . you have no meat on these bones."

Yumichika smiled. "Kai, you worry too much." He shrugged the kimono off into her hands.

"And you don't worry at all," Kai replied. "That's why you stay so pretty. You don't let anything disturb you."

Yumichika chuckled. "I wish that were true."

"Come, come, hurry up and get in the water," Kai ushered him toward the tub.

"Shouldn't I wash first?"

"No time for that, and besides, the rain washed off all the dirt," Kai pressed. "You just need to warm up and relax. You're in knots. Hikei, are you ready for him?"

Hikei held out her arm. "Come, Ayasegawa-san. We don't have much time. Get in."

Yumichika got into the tub and sunk down into the warm comfort. Hikei leaned over and began to rub his shoulders. "You _are_ tense. I think something bothers you?"

"I just ran from the market to here in the rain. I guess I am a little tense," Yumichika replied.

Kai brought his bag from where he had dropped it to in front of the hearth. "Did you bring something to wear or will you wear one of the old outfits."

"One of the old ones. Everything in the bag is wet through—"

"We will put them before the fire. They will dry soon enough." She began taking out the contents of the sack and arranging them over the drying racks. "Oh, nice things, Ayasegawa-san. I am surprised they did not sell."

"The bag was full when I came. It only has a few pieces left," Yumichika replied. "Most of it is mine."

"Hmmm, I can see that," Kai said with a sly inflection as she continued removing the contents.

"Do you know what other guests are here tonight?" Yumichika asked.

"The usual," Hikei answered. "They all wait for you."

"You exaggerate," Yumichika laughed.

"Then Imakao waits for you," Hikei went on. "And he is all that matters, isn't he?"

"In his own home, he is all that matters," Yumichika agreed.

Fifteen minutes later, Yumichika climbed out of the tub and stood before the fire as the two women toweled him dry. From a black cedar wardrobe, Kai pulled out a stunning kimono made of the finest silk, green with gold highlights. She and Hikei dressed him, pulled his hair into a rather feminine style, and ushered him to stand beside the brazier where Hikei filled an incenser with fragrant granules. Yumichika stood in the smoke for several seconds.

"That should be sufficient. You will be dazzling enough," Kai said hurriedly. "We don't want them to go crazy. Go, go, quickly."

Yumichika stepped out into the hallway and headed for the hall of mirrors, Kai and Hikei escorting him with determined steps. As they drew closer, the sound of voices and soft music could be heard. There were other people heading for the hall; they all gave Yumichika a wide, admiring berth as he walked by. Just before the door, Kai stopped and gave him a final primping.

"We will see you after the dinner," she said, smiling at him as if she were proud of her product.

"Thank you, Kai. Thank you, Hikei," he said, pressing his check to each in turn. "No one looks after me better than you two."

"Go inside, then," Kai replied. "Everyone's waiting."

Yumichika stepped up to the doorway, where Masaka stood keeping an eye out for the uninvited. When his eyes fell on Yumichika, his expression went from one of superior appraisal to unconcealable disdain.

"You took long enough," he said, then after running his eyes up and down to take in Yumichika's appearance, "And this is the best they could do with you in all that time?" He began walking across the guest-filled room, and Yumichika followed him. "I'll never understand what his lordship sees in you."

Yumichika frowned. "I know that's how you feel. You tell me every time I come here."

"Yes, with the hope that each time will be the last," Masaka replied in nasal tone. "You don't belong here. You're a merchant, nothing more. You're only here because you look like that."

"I'm here because Imakao likes my work," Yumichika contested. "If he also likes the way I look, he's not alone."

"Indeed."

Both of them were well aware that, upon Yumichika's entrance into the room, all heads had turned, all eyes were riveted. Yumichika enjoyed being the center of attention, and so he moved with a calm and ease that even Masaka could not disturb, no matter how the head of staff might try to rattle him.

But even though Yumichika's outward appearance was placid and self-assured, the same could not be said of his interior disposition. Masaka's presence always put him on edge, but he had been playing this game for so long that he was a master at disguising his discomfort. The man had hated him from their first meeting. Yumichika had always attributed the hostility to jealousy. Masaka was very protective of his position in Imakao's household. And that position as the most important person on Imakao's staff was secure every day of the year, except for those days when Yumichika visited.

Imakao's infatuation with Yumichika's beauty was well-known to everyone who could claim an acquaintance with Imakao. Even those who knew the wealthy businessman only in passing were aware of his fascination with the diminutive clothier. But Yumichika was known as more than just a beautiful man who made beautiful things. He was regarded as possessing an air of mystery and remoteness that invited conjecture and speculation into every part of his life.

Yumichika willingly played the part, fed the rumors, and cast about just enough subtle provocations to maintain the illusion, for it was an illusion he loved.

They entered the hall of mirrors and went straight to the far end of the room where Imakao was entertaining a select group of guests.

But when the host caught sight of Yumichika, he forgot all about his other guests.

"Yumichika-san, it's good to see you again," he oozed, draping his arm over Yumichika's shoulders and leaning in close.

Imakao was an extraordinarily handsome man with shoulder-length hair the color of storm clouds, a ruddy complexion, and hazel eyes that always seemed to be only partly focused. Yumichika had long attributed that to Imakao's love affair with the bottle. He was a tall man, over six feet, broad-shouldered and muscular. There was nothing delicate about him. He was the confident master of his own residence, bellicose and aggressive without being too overbearing.

And he liked Yumichika.

"You look incredible," he went on, taking an unabashed visual sweep of Yumichika's body. "As always."

Yumichika feigned perfect humility. "That's very kind of you, Imakao-sama."

"Kindness goes a long way," Imakao replied, his gaze now riveted to Yumichika's eyes. "_You're _kind," he said, drawing even closer.

Yumichika did not draw back but returned the stare with equal intensity. He had never backed down from Imakao's strange advances; it was always Imakao who retreated. It was a sort of peculiar game they both liked to play.

Masaka's voice interrupted them.

"Imakao-sama, dinner is ready to serve."

Imakao broke out of his trance and smiled enthusiastically. "Excellent! Excellent! Sound the bell and seat the guests!" He pulled Yumichika to him. "You'll join my table."

"I'm honored," Yumichika replied, but really there was no honor in it. Yumichika always sat at the head table. Still, each time he acted as if he were the recipient of a great privilege. It was yet another way to show his gratitude to his host. He allowed himself to be escorted to the table where Imakao immediately pressed an overflowing wine glass into his hand before they sat.

Yumichika was accustomed to it, and he'd learned long ago how to make one glass of wine stretch over an entire evening.

"Maybe later, you'll entertain us a little bit?" Imakao half-asked, half-suggested.

"Mm, perhaps," Yumichika replied with a glint in his eye, making it clear that there _would_ be entertainment that night.

Imakao took his place at the table. The moment Yumichika sat down, he wrapped an arm possessively around him.

This, too, was nothing new for Yumichika. He relished Imakao's attention and his own special status in Imakao's household. But he did not like it when Imakao had obviously imbibed too much. He detested the slobbering and drink-induced fawning that left him feeling sullied simply by association. Still, it was something he endured in this case, for Imakao was too important a client and citizen to offend.

Yumichika's presence at Imakao's side made the master of the estate the envy of every single one of his guests. Any excuse would suffice for the revelers to make their way to the head table just to catch a closer glimpse of the beautiful creature adorning the scene. Imakao fed off their covetousness. He had something everyone else wanted. Something he could use to tease and taunt them. Something they could never have.

He turned and looked at Yumichika, who smiled alluringly.

Yes, here was the prize.

* * *

><p>"You not working tonight?"<p>

"I already did my job. Yoto-sama went to that big party at Imakao-sama's residence. I'll be going tomorrow to pick him up, so that means I've got all the night free."

At the mention of Imakao, Ikkaku's attention perked up. He had finished his meal and was downing his third glass of sake.

"Seems his parties are getting more often," the first man said.

"And wilder. I think they're all just sex parties."

"Are they?"

"I don't know for sure. I've never been inside, but I wouldn't be surprised. You hear stories, you know?" the second man put forth. He poured himself another glass of sake. "Yoto-sama has a pretty big mouth, and he talks a lot about what goes on."

"Makes me wish I moved in that circle," the first man chuckled. "I think I'd like an invite to a party like that."

Ikkaku got up from his seat and went over to their table. "Where does this Imakao live?"

The two men looked up at him. "Who are you?" the second one asked.

"That's not important. Just tell me where he lives," Ikkaku demanded.

The second man smiled disparagingly. "You planning to break into his party? They'll throw you out on your ass."

Now, it was Ikkaku's turn to smile. "Let them try."

"Sounds exciting," the first man said. "He lives at the bottom of the foothill." He then proceeded to give directions, finishing up with, "If you do manage to get in, come back and tell us if it's true. Are they sex parties?"

Ikkaku's expression darkened. "They damn well better not be."

With that, he was off.

* * *

><p>Dinner was over.<p>

Yumichika stood looking at his reflection in the full-length mirror back in his room.

"I ate too much," he remarked. "Look at my stomach sticking out."

"Who will even notice that?" Kai challenged.

"True," Yumichika admitted, turning to view himself from every possible angle. He was devastating. With this outfit, he had truly outdone himself. "They won't be able to take their eyes off me."

"They never can," Kai replied. "But you don't have to show them everything, do you? You will be sick wearing this outfit."

"I'll be fine," Yumichika assured her.

She was not convinced. "Why do you do this? It's not good, Ayasegawa-san."

"It's good for me," Yumichika dismissed her concerns.

"You will make them lose all control," she warned.

Yumichika smiled and kissed her cheek. "I like it that way."

* * *

><p>It took Ikkaku just less than twenty minutes to reach the estate with its vast grounds. He leapt over the outer stone wall with no difficulty and stole across the sparse woodland and cultivated gardens.<p>

He observed the residence from a distance for several minutes, trying to discern the best route for a covert entrance. He could tell from the light streaming through the windows and the occasional sound of music and voices that reached his ears, that the center of activity seemed to be in the left wing of the home. He crept to the wall and began carefully picking his way to the upper row of windows. Here, he stopped and looked through, hoping to catch a glimpse of Yumichika.

He was looking into a long hall with a vaulted ceiling and a grand split staircase in the middle of the opposite wall. The row of windows he was looking through was high up, giving a clear view of the festivities below.

The entire throng of guests, and there must have been at least 200 of them, were gathered in the center of the room where the grand staircase curved down along both walls. The revelers lounged on chaises and over-sized floor cushions and pillows. They were surrounded by flasks of various spirits and more than half of them were in some state of undress. It was a scene of decadence and indulgence, and it made Ikkaku sick to his stomach. The man in the tavern had been right after all. Ikkaku did not see any sexual activity taking place, but he sensed that it was not far off.

He searched the crowd for Yumichika but could not find him. After several minutes of scouring the scene for any sign of him, Ikkaku felt a sense of relief that Yumichika was not visible. Apparently, Yumichika had found something better to do than be a part of the debauchery going on on the main floor.

Ikkaku caught sight of Masaka standing halfway up the right staircase. At some sort of signal from below, he made a motion that resulted in the alcove chandeliers being lowered and doused while other lesser lights were lit, and colored lamps cast a mosaic of at least a dozen different hues. A collective gasp of delight rose from the crowd, followed by an anticipatory silence.

Almost imperceptible at first, the dulcet strains of a musical piece rose from somewhere down in the diffused darkness. The melody was sultry, reminiscent of the ancient eastern kingdoms of the living world. It was attention-grabbing, drawing Ikkaku to settle into the window for a better view.

The dancer appeared unexpectedly, materializing in the red light bathing the floor between the two staircases.

Ikkaku so startled that he lost his balance and almost tumbled from the window. He managed to keep his place, but he had to fight against the urge to leap into the room and put an immediate and resounding end to the festivities.

The dancer was Yumichika. Yumichika, garbed in the very outfit that he had said was for Imakao, Yumichika, hair unbound and falling over his shoulders in sheets as black as onyx, glittering in the colored lights. Yumichika, appearing with all the grace and beauty of a peacock.

His movements were slow, controlled, cat-like in their precision. His very presence was mesmerizing. He did not make eye contact with any of those watching him, but his facial expressions were evocative and riveting. He almost seemed as if he were performing in another world, as if the throng of leering onlookers were not even present.

The music took on an exotic tenor, and the murky light only added to the sense of anticipation. But it was the motion of Yumichika's body that made Ikkaku feel that he was slipping into the same trance that held the audience captive.

Until that moment, Ikkaku had seen Yumichika as lilting and fragile. Even knowing the hidden strength belied by the narrow frame, Ikkaku had not thought of Yumichika as athletic.

Not so anymore. Barely covered by the work of his own hands, Yumichika's body appeared long and supple, without flaw, the lines of youthful muscle etched like a sculptor's art over skin that had taken on an alabaster-like glow in the candle-light. Other than the strands of garment, he wore no adornment. It occurred to Ikkaku that no jewel or precious metal could add to Yumichika's beauty. It could only lament its own ugliness in comparison.

There was no doubt. At that moment, Yumichika was the most beautiful, most enchanting creature in existence. Ikkaku wondered that he had not come to this conclusion earlier. And the dance was a showcase for that beauty. His bare arms fluttered one moment like the wings of a heron, the next they twisted like water serpents. His legs carried his body through perfectly choreographed steps that seemed to mimic the movements of different animals but with a sensuality that no animal could possess. Every arch, every bend, every roll of his head spoke to a sense of blatant eroticism.

Ikkaku could not see his face clearly across the distance and dim light. But that did not matter. He could _feel _Yumichika, as if he were standing there beside him. It was something altogether new, and he could not even begin to comprehend it. It was as if Yumichika were reaching down inside him and draining the will to resist from his soul.

The will to resist . . . to resist what? What was so tempting that it needed resisting? The thought might have disturbed Ikkaku had it taken root, but it could not, for there was something generous in the taking; a charity from Yumichika, something too boundless to be contained, too bountiful to be hoarded. Yet, Ikkaku could not put his finger on it. He only knew, as he watched Yumichika step in and out among the musicians, brushing against them in subtle provocations, that he liked what he was seeing. _He loved it._

At the head of the musical ensemble, a woman stood dressed in something only slightly less revealing than Yumichika's garment. She was the singer, and her rich, heavy voice lent an air of raw sensuality to the entire performance.

Yumichika approached and danced around her, barely making contact, yet the encounter was charged with desire and passion. The woman reached out her hand and caressed his face, his neck, traced down the curve of his back. Her motions were assured and possessive. It was seduction, but it was not Yumichika who was being seduced. No. Yumichika was seducing the woman into desiring him.

In fact . . .

Ikkaku forced his eyes from the performance to the audience. What he saw horrified him. Every eye was glued. Every face a mask of wanton lust. Male, female. It didn't matter. The appetite was in all of them, and Yumichika had woken it, stirred it, and now he was reveling in it. He has seduced them all, and they didn't even realize it.

Or perhaps they did. Perhaps this was what they had wanted all along.

And although he knew it was his imagination, to Ikkaku, the crowd had drawn nearer; they had become a leering mass of depravity.

The music suddenly increased in intensity. Ikkaku returned his attention to Yumichika, who now danced away from the woman, and made his way up the stairs in a series of movements, each more enticing than the one before it. At the top, he moved to the center of the balustrade between the two staircases. As the final note sounded, he arched his back over the balustrade and then was still.

The ovation that followed was explosive. The crowed clapped and screamed and writhed. They shouted for more.

Yumichika didn't take a bow. He didn't even acknowledge the crowd. There was a curtained doorway in the center of the landing, and he disappeared through it without so much as a glance at his adoring public.

Ikkaku sprang up onto the roof and then down the other side, but there were no windows on this side, and he could not see where Yumichika had gone. To his left, the wing ended. To his right, it joined the main house, and so Ikkaku headed in that direction.

He dropped down onto the ledge that ran along the windows of the fourth floor and moved from window to window, until he caught a glimpse of Yumichika moving down one of the hallways perpendicular to the one Ikkaku was following. There were two other people with him, but Ikkaku could not make them out clearly. That hardly mattered. After what Ikkaku had heard in the sake bar and what he had seen in the hall, the last thing he wanted was for Yumichika to be in anybody's company.

Ikkaku tried the window, but it was closed fast. In the next moment, he lost sight of Yumichika as he turned the corner at the end of the hallway.

Ikkaku cursed under his breath. He had to find a way inside and discover which room Yumichika was staying in.

* * *

><p>"You didn't even break a sweat," Kai remarked, helping Yumichika strip off his meager costume. "Look at you. You're practically glowing – more than usual."<p>

Yumichika grinned. "I feel wonderful. And tired."

"Will you want a bath?"

"No," Yumichika replied. "I'm just going to go to bed. The energy I felt during the dance is starting to fade."

Kai nodded. "It's always like this."

"If I could figure out a way to make that feeling last longer, to hold onto that energy, I would," Yumichika admitted. "It's very . . . invigorating."

"And short-lived," Hikei put in as she slid a sleeping shift over his head. "You always fall into bed like a rock after dancing like that. Kai is right. You give them too much."

"But I like doing it," Yumichika defended.

"That is the problem," Kai pointed out. "Sometimes I think you have no sense." She turned down the covers on the room's one large, opulently appointed bed while Hikei went to the hearth to stoke the fire, for while it was the middle of summer, the rain had brought in a cool dampness for the night. "One day, you'll listen to us and stop coming here."

"You'd both miss me terribly if I did that," Yumichika said, climbing into the bed and allowing them to fuss over him a bit.

"That's true," Kai agreed, and she did not pursue any further. "Do you need anything before we go?"

"No, I'm fine," Yumichika replied.

"The night servants will be in the hall, if you need something," Kai said, even though she knew Yumichika was aware of this.

"Oh, there is something," Yumichika suddenly remembered. "The kimonos you took out of my bag to dry. The flowered one is for you, Kai. The rose one with the silver banding is for you, Hikei. I know it's small payment for all you two do for me, but I hope you like them."

Kai smiled fondly at him. "Ayasegawa-san, you have a big heart." She leaned down and kissed his cheek.

That small gesture of affection, matronly in its offing, was something Yumichika cherished more than all the other attentions combined.

* * *

><p>Ikkaku was one heartbeat short of breaking a window and fighting his way in. Every turn, every view into the residence showed dozens of servants roaming the halls or night watchmen fixed in place at various corners. It had not occurred to Ikkaku that a businessman would require such security; but then again, it was a large estate, and with the state of things as Ikkaku had seen them down in the hall, perhaps such measures were needed to maintain order. There was no telling what activities followed such a display as Yumichika had put on.<p>

But the presence of the guards and servants made it impossible for Ikkaku to attempt an entrance through a hall window. He needed to find an empty room, and thirty minutes after losing sight of Yumichika, he was still looking.

The hall into which Yumichika had turned was along the back, north-facing side of the residence. Ikkaku, looking into the windows, had ascertained that all the rooms were guest rooms. Most of them were empty and dark, for the guests were still down in the hall; but some were occupied, and Ikkaku did not want to see the goings-on in those rooms, so he quickly passed them by.

He was starting to lose hope as he came to the end of the wing, but when he came to the last window, his search was rewarded.

Looking in, he could see an orange light cast by the fire and Yumichika lying in the bed.

"Bout damned time," he said under his breath and reached for the window.

It was locked.

He clenched his jaw and bit down on the urge to shout his rage and break open the window. Instead, he rapped his knuckles against the glass – softly at first and then harder.

Yumichika stirred and then sat up. He got out of bed and moved cautiously towards the window. Once he was able to make out who it was, he opened the window right away.

"Ikkaku? What are you doing here? How—how did you get up to the window?"

"I'm here to get you out of this place," Ikkaku answered in a stern voice as he climbed inside.

"To get me out?" Yumichika replied. "What are you—"

"I saw your little performance earlier this evening," Ikkaku cut him off.

Yumichika, despite Ikkaku's gravity, smiled with pleasure. "You did? How did you manage that?"

"I watched it from one of the windows—"

"Did you like it?"

Ikkaku swallowed down a mixture of impatience and outrage. "I hated it. It was disgusting watching all those people gawking at you like you were some—some—some piece of merchandise for sale. And I think modesty looks a lot better on you than writhing around half-naked."

"There was no writhing," Yumichika defended. "And I don't mind people gawking at me. I'm used to it. Being beautiful makes it unavoidable."

Ikkaku growled in frustration. "It wasn't just your beauty they were looking at. It was a very suggestive dance, Yumichika. How can you say it wasn't?"

"I'm not saying it wasn't. I'm just saying there was no writhing." He looked plaintively at Ikkaku. "You didn't like any part of it?"

"Not enough to let you stay here," Ikkaku replied.

"What do you think is going to happen to me here? Are they going to come in and attack me because I got them so worked up? I've been doing this for years, Ikkaku. No one has attacked me yet," Yumichika grinned playfully.

"There's always a first time," Ikkaku replied, and there was no humor in his voice.

"It isn't such a big deal—"

Ikkaku jerked him to attention and looked straight into his eyes. "If it's not a big deal, then why didn't you tell me the truth about that outfit? Why didn't you tell me it was for you, and you were going to put it on and do some erotic dance in front of hundreds of people? Why did you lie and say it was for Imakao?"

"But the dance was for Imakao, and so the outfit was for him, too. I didn't say he was going to wear it."

"You probably think that's pretty cute, but it doesn't matter. You're leaving here with me one way or another," Ikkaku said. "I don't care how it's done, but you're leaving."

"You're acting like you're jealous," Yumichika jabbed, his voice and manner still filled with a child-like glee.

Ikkaku ignored the comment. "Are you coming willingly?"

Before Yumichika could answer, there was a knock at the door. A second later, the door opened to reveal Masaka standing on the threshold. He was carrying a night lamp that cast enough light into the room for him to see that Yumichika was not alone.

"What's this?" he asked, stepping inside. "You have a visitor, Ayasegawa?" He paused for a moment, taking a look at Ikkaku. "You're the man from the market. How is it that you turn up here when you were explicitly excluded from the list?"

Yumichika sprang forward, "Masaka-san, I can explain—" But Ikkaku's long reach pulled him back.

"I came here to get him," Ikkaku said forcefully. "I don't give a damn about your parties, your rules or your guestlist. I came here to get Yumichika out of here, and I'm not leaving without him."

"This is very interesting, indeed." Masaka's voice was low and lurid. He looked at Yumichika. "Imakao-sama sent me to bring you to him. So, what shall I tell his lordship? That you will not come? That you have been whisked away by a mysterious bandit?"

"You can tell him whatever you want." It was Ikkaku who answered. "Just make sure it starts with 'Yumichika isn't here.' After that you can say whatever you want."

"Madarame-san!" Yumichika burst out, pulling free of Ikkaku's grasp. "This has nothing to do with you! I want you to leave-—

"I will leave," Ikkaku replied, then he reached out and took Yumichika firmly by the arm. "And you're coming with me."

Masaka remained standing just inside the door, a smug look on his face. "His lordship will be surprised at this turn of events. A jealous lover come to steal away the most beautiful—"

That was as far as he got. Ikkaku, abandoning his hold on Yumichika, leapt across the room in two steps and drove his fist into Masaka's temple, sending him reeling into the wall while the lantern smashed against the stone of the hearth.

"Madarame, stop!" Yumichika cried out, rushing to Masaka's side and crouching down beside him. "Masaka-san, are you all right?"

"Get away from me, whore!" Masaka spat out, getting to his feet and touching his cheek carefully, his fingers coming back with blood on them. He stepped to the doorway and shouted to someone out of sight. "Go send word to his lordship to come to Ayasegawa's room! It's an emergency."

Ikkaku grit his teeth. He had expected that there would be guards or servants nearby, but that didn't matter.

Masaka turned to face him. "Unless you want to face Imakao-sama's personal guard, you will leave."

"I'll leave, and he's coming with me," Ikkaku replied.

"Madarame-san! Please! Go!" Yumichika implored.

Ikkaku reached out to grab Yumichika's arm again, but Yumichika drew back. He knew he would not get Ikkaku to leave unless he tricked him somehow. "Wait for me outside the gate. I'll be there shortly. Madarame-san . . . please, please go. Please."

Ikkaku was not immune to the desperation in Yumichika's voice. "I'll give you three minutes. After that, I'll come in here and drag you out, if I have to."

Then he left the same way he'd come in.

Once he was gone, Yumichika turned plaintively to Masaka. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't think he—"

"Shut up," Masaka cut him off, a sinister, self-satisfied smirk on his face. "I don't want your apologies or your excuses. You're exactly what I always thought you were. And at last, maybe this time his lordship will see you as I do and get rid of you."

"I thought Madarame was going to stay away!" Yumichika explained. "I don't know why he came here tonight. I don't know why—"

"I told you to shut up. I don't care about anything you have to say," Masaka ground out. "You had the rest of them fooled, but not me. Now, Imakao-sama will find out what you really are."

"Masaka—"

"One more word, and I'll have you whipped! Don't think Imakao-sama will protect you this time! Once he finds out what you've done, bringing another man into your bed, he will throw you out himself!"

Yumichika was furious. "I didn't sleep with him! And I've never slept with Imakao either! Your jealousy has been for nothing all these years!"

"I'll have you beaten to within an inch of your life!"

As Masaka made this threat, Imakao arrived with a handful of his personal guard.

"What's going on?" he demanded, rushing to Yumichika's side in a protective manner.

It was Masaka who answered. "Ayasegawa was entertaining a man in his room."

Imakao looked incredulous. "_That_ is the emergency?"

Masaka continued. "He was going to leave with the other man."

Imakao turned to Yumichika. "What happened?"

Yumichika faltered. What was he going to say?

"Yumichika?" Imakao pressed.

"I'll tell you what happened," Masaka interjected. "I came to get him as you ordered, and when I came in, he was with another man. I saw the man earlier in the marketplace with Ayasegawa. He came with him from Mito. When he saw me, he hit me."

Imakao took hold of Yumichika by the arms and looked down intently at him. "Is that true? Who was this man?"

Yumichika frowned. "It's partly true. He's a new acquaintance of mine, and he didn't get invited to the banquet. So, he sneaked in somehow and saw me dance. He didn't like it, and he was trying to get me to leave."

"And you wanted to stay?" Imakao asked.

"Yes, of course—"

Imakao turned to Masaka. "Where is this man now?"

"Ayasegawa told him to meet him at the gate," Masaka replied.

Still speaking to Masaka, Imakao ordered, "Go send word to the guards to apprehend this man." Then to Yumichika. "Did he hurt you? Did he lay one finger on you?"

Yumichika was panicked. "Imakao-sama, you don't need to send anyone after him! He's leaving!" he protested. "He didn't hurt me—"

"You were going to leave with him," Masaka put forth.

"No!" Yumichika replied. "I only said that to get him to leave. I didn't want to take the chance of him picking any more fights."

"And when you don't show up at the gate?" Masaka challenged.

"I will show up," Yumichika snapped. "Long enough to convince him to leave."

"Who is this man that he thinks he can come into my home and tell you, one of my guests, what to do?" Imakao demanded, then he repeated to Masaka, "Go send the guards to the gate. Bring him back."

In desperation, Yumichika slid up to press his body against Imakao's. He looked up into his eyes and drew on his greatest strength. "No, Imakao-sama. Just let him go. He's not worth it."

"He won't just go away," Masaka said, then he turned to carry out his order.

Yumichika tightened his embrace. "Imakao-sama . . . "

Imakao drew in a shuddering breath. "Masaka-san. Stop. Return to your duties."

"My lord—"

"Leave us. All of you."

"Imakao-sama!"

"Masaka-san, do as I say. Not another word."

Masaka spun and left in a wind of fury. The guards followed him.

Yumichika drew a sigh of relief and rested his head against Imakao's chest. "Thank you," he said softly.

"Don't thank me," Imakao replied. He indulged the feel of Yumichika's body so close to his, but he was not a fool. "Just me the truth: why did that man come in here to get you?"

Yumichika wasn't even sure he knew the answer to that. At last, he admitted, "I don't know."

"He's dangerous, if he's willing to break into another man's home and try to force you to leave with him against your will."

Yumichika was silent.

"Unless you wanted to leave."

"I didn't," Yumichika replied, then adding hesitantly. "But now I . . . I think . . . "

"You think it'd be better if you did," Imakao finished the thought. "So do I."

And while Imakao's voice contained no malice or anger, it hit Yumichika like a hammer.

"I don't want any trouble in my household," Imakao went on. "And I don't want any trouble for you, Yumichika-kun." He gently caressed the side of Yumichika's face. "It's better if you leave."

Yumichika was mortified. He didn't know if Imakao was terminating their interaction altogether or just for this trip. And he couldn't find the courage or will to inquire. "I understand," he said, "And I'm sorry, Imakao-sama. I should have known—I should have recognized the trouble with him right away."

"That's your greatest weakness," Imakao chastised gently. "You never see trouble. One day, it's going to take you by surprise." He walked to the door. "Go now." A pause. "And don't worry. You still have the booth at the market. And you're still welcome here. Just don't bring your friend."

* * *

><p>Yumichika could not remember the last time he had been so humiliated. Or so angry.<p>

He had no intention of meeting Ikkaku at the gate. He had no intention of meeting him ever again. Madarame had come very close to destroying one of the most lucrative business relationships Yumichika had. Not only that, he had decided in some odd way to establish himself as Yumichika's master, telling him what to do and physically forcing him when he resisted.

It might have been Yumichika's own fault for inviting him into his life, but he could put an end to that. He left Imakao's estate through a little-used rear gate, purposefully avoiding the main gate where he had told Ikkaku he would meet him. He trudged down a muddy path toward the shore, buffeted by the wind and rain and indifferent to it.

He was halfway through the wood above the shore when he heard Ikkaku's voice.

"I knew you were lying to me."

Yumichika kept walking.

"I knew you weren't going to meet me," Ikkaku went on, joining him on the path. "Where are you going?"

"Home," Yumichika said curtly.

"Home? Right now?"

Yumichika did not answer.

"You can't take that boat out now. It's dark and it's raining. You don't know what it's doing out on that sea."

Again, Yumichika ignored him and kept walking.

"Why are you leaving? Did he throw you out?" Ikkaku pressed.

Yumichika clenched his jaw. He was not going to reply. There were no words to express the outrage he was feeling.

"You're not going out in that boat, Yumichika," Ikkaku went on. "You're not thinking clearly, and you're not getting in that boat."

Ikkaku followed him in silence another two or three minutes, and when it became clear that Yumichika was serious in his intent, he decided the foolishness had gone on long enough.

"Okay, that's it," he said, grabbing the strap on Yumichika's duffel.

Yumichika yanked the bag away and finally broke his silence. "Just get away from me."

"Yumichika—"

"I have nothing to say to you, and there's nothing you can say to me that I want to hear." He quickened his pace.

"I don't see why you're so angry," Ikkaku barked over the crash of thunder overhead. "I was trying to protect you."

Something about this claim so enraged Yumichika that he could not contain himself. "From what?" he demanded, storming down the pathway. "I didn't ask for your protection! Why do you even think I need protecting?"

"You are so blind, you didn't even see what was going on back there! Why the hell do you think _his lordship_ sent for you? You think he wanted to play cards?" Ikkaku charged.

"I don't know why he sent for me, and now I'll never know—"

"Then let me tell you." He grabbed Yumichika's shoulder and spun him around. He drew Yumichika close, so that their faces were only inches apart. "He wanted to see if you move as well in bed as you do in the dance—"

The hatred flared in Yumichika's eyes. "Shut up!" he shouted, pulling away. "You don't know anything about how to act with other people! You idiot! You—you—I was completely wrong to invite you into my home! So, I'm uninviting you right now. You're no longer welcome in my company!" He turned and had gone less than a half dozen paces before he felt Ikkaku's arms closer around him in an iron-like grip.

"You are not getting in that boat." Ikkaku's voce was low and full of warning.

Yumichika twisted against him, and Ikkaku once again was surprised at his strength. He tightened his hold.

"Don't fight with me—you know you don't stand a chance—"

Yumichika stepped back, throwing Ikkau off balance and taking the opening to hurl him over his shoulder.

Ikkaku got to his feet, and a smile of intrigue and surprise played across his face.

"Well, well . . . you're not as helpless as you look. I guess maybe you _are_ worth fighting. But you won't catch me off-guard again."

"I'm not going to fight you," Yumichika said, his voice shaking and not from fear. "Just let me pass."

"The only way you'll get past me is to fight me. Otherwise, you can wait until morning and for the rain to stop," Ikkaku replied.

"I'm not going to have you telling me what to do," Yumichika ground out.

"In this case, you are."

Yumichika picked up his bag and started forward.

"Don't try it," Ikkaku warned.

Yumichika ignored him. As he took the first step past Ikkaku, Ikkaku snatched the corner of his cloak and spun him into it, so that it wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides. And again, Ikkaku reached his arms around him, then dropped heavily into a sitting position, bringing Yumichika with him.

"Let go of me!" Yumichika demanded.

"Not a chance," Ikkaku replied. "I'm not going to be responsible for you killing yourself out there."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because I can."

"So, because you're stronger than me, you can make me do whatever you want, is that it?" Yumichika growled angrily.

"Pretty much, yeah," Ikkaku replied. "But I'll only do it when you're acting stupid."

"You seem to like using your strength to take advantage of me—"

"Stop right there." Ikkaku cut him off. "I stopped you from being taken advantage of tonight, and I'm stopping you from doing something stupid right now."

"I just want to go home," Yumichika groaned, sounding defeated. "You've humiliated me in front of everyone. Why did you interfere? You've already said you don't care about me, so why did you get involved in my business?"

Ikkaku did not reply right away. At length, he said, "I don't know why. I felt like it. I hate seeing anyone do something stupid or degrading. And if you want to keep being stupid, we can sit out here in the rain all night, cause you're not getting loose."

"It doesn't matter," Yumichika said and he slumped back against Ikkaku, as if every muscle had failed. "I'm tired of fighting with you."

"Then stop fighting."

"I have." Yumichika hesitated. "But I don't want you around any more. You're—you're making it too hard."

"I thought we were having fun," Ikkaku replied.

"Maybe you were, but I don't want to be arguing all day, every day. It hasn't even been three days, and already you—you just want to fight with me." He grew very quiet. "I don't know why I offered to help you, and I don't know why you took me up on my offer. You don't need my help, and I don't want all the trouble."

"You really sound like a woman," Ikkaku chastised.

Yumichika sighed in exhaustion. "I know that's what you think of me." He closed his eyes. "I just want you to go away."

Ikkaku was silent. So, here it was. He had known it would only be a matter of time before he wore out his welcome, but he had dared to entertain the possibility that Yumichika was more long-suffering. At last, he said in an even voice, "Then I'll go away. But not until I know you're not going to get in that boat."

He received no answer, and from the laxness in his arms, he knew Yumichika had fallen off. He looked up into the night sky, felt the rain coming down heavy against his face, and got to his feet, drawing Yumichika up with him. On one side of the path, there was a rock overhang, and Ikkaku moved Yumichika underneath then sat down beside him. They were already soaked to the bone, but somehow, it felt like the right thing to do. Even if everything else he had done had been wrong – and he wasn't convinced it had been wrong – this was right.

If tomorrow morning, Yumichika still wanted nothing to do with him, he would go on his way. And although he could hardly believe it, he dreaded that moment of decision.

* * *

><p>Yumichika opened his eyes. It was still dark, but his internal clock, flawless as always, told him it was close to three o'clock in the morning.<p>

He was lying under an overhang of rock. He was still drenched to the bone, and outside the protective lip of rock, the rain was still falling, only lightly now stopped. He could feel Ikkaku's arm across his side. Clearly, Madarame had not wanted him to slip away during the night. And perhaps Madarame had not meant to fall asleep, but the snoring and other assorted noises told Yumichika he had. He eased his way from under Ikkaku's arm, garnering only a brief, incoherent mumbling for the effort. He crawled out from under the overhang and looked back at Madarame in the darkness. His anger was still fresh, only now there was the added dimension of sadness.

What had happened? Why had things turned out this way? He had liked Ikkaku. He still did – or at least, he thought he did. He could not understand why he was so angry. He'd always been the acquiescent type – some things did follow a soul from the living world to this one. That acquiescence had benefited him greatly here in the farthest reaches of the Rukongai. He'd made a comfortable life with little effort, unless he considered tailoring to be an effort – which he did not. Whatever other minor contributions he might have to make – such as dancing – were easy and enjoyable.

He turned away and moved with silent speed down the path. His trek to the boat passed quickly with his thoughts fully consumed.

Yes, he'd seen the leering faces of the audience. He'd sensed the lust in their hearts; and rather than feeling repulsed by it, he had basked in the attention. It made him feel like a coveted jewel that no one could have.

Including Madarame.

He came to the boat, untied it, and pushed off. The water was smooth, the surface broken only by the drops of rain, but no wind to disturb it. He was not worried about the darkness. He had crossed in darkness before, and it would be dawn soon anyway. He could think of nothing else but getting home and falling into bed, getting away from the upset for a few hours in peaceful sleep.

He had made it almost all the way to the opposite shore when the wind began to pick up, and he felt a stronger rain coming. He consigned Ikkaku to the back of his thoughts and quickened his pace. He was skilled at navigating rough waters, but he had no desire to be caught out in the dark in high seas in the rain. It was a struggle, but he managed to get to shore just as the rain began to pelt him like tiny needles. He tied the boat off quickly, grabbed his bag, and headed for home. By the time he got there, he was drenched clear through again and exhausted; his mind was racing and the upset was starting to return. And even though it was five o'clock in the morning, he drew himself a bath. It would help him relax and make him sleepy; and the sooner he fell asleep, the sooner his thoughts would leave Ikkaku behind.

* * *

><p>In his sleep, Ikkaku knew something wasn't right. It came to him suddenly: the warmth of another body was gone. He opened his eyes and sat up abruptly.<p>

Yumichika was not there.

"Damn you," he muttered. "If you went down to that boat . . . " He got up and headed for the shore as quickly as the darkness and unfamiliar terrain would allow, cursing Yumichika with every step. He reached the shore to see flashes of lightening across the sea, and a fear took shape inside him. The boat was gone, and it was likely that Yumichika was out in the middle of the storm.

There was no way for Ikkaku to cross the sea. He would have to go around. But to what purpose? If Yumichika were caught in the storm, there was nothing he could do about it; and it would take two or three days to go by land.

But he had to know. He had to know if Yumichika was safe.

"When I get my hands on you . . ."

He started trotting along the shoreline. He had a long trip ahead of him.

* * *

><p>It was the first time since coming to Soul Society that his reflection did not give him pleasure. He could not deny that looking at his own image was one of his favorite things to do. Maybe he was vain and egotistical; but he had good reason to be, didn't he?<p>

Every lingering eye, every stolen glance told him that he was beautiful. His own aesthetic eye confirmed it. And he liked it. He liked everything about being beautiful. He needed no one's approval. He was a desired, sought-after man who could pick and choose his associates.

And sometimes he chose wrong. Recent events had proven that beauty was no measure of wisdom. Or contentment. And at the moment, he felt like he possessed neither wisdom nor contentment.

It had been two days since he'd come back across the sea in anger. Two days that he'd been trying unsuccessfully to convince himself that he'd made the right decision, that this was the best ending to an acquaintance that was, in every way that mattered, undesirable. But he could not do it. He could not convince himself of his own lie. The truth was that things had already changed, and he could not go back. He could not un-know Ikkaku. And while part of him wanted to forget that Madarame even existed, another part mourned the end of something that had not even truly begun.

He pulled back his hair and focused on admiring his own image. A knock at the door drew his attention. Opening the door, he found Hinsamoi regarding him cheerfully with arms laden with mountains of cloth.

"Hinsamoi-san," Yumichika greeted him warmly, happy for the distraction. "What brings you here? You rarely come to see me at home."

"I hadn't seen you in a couple days, so I'm using these new fabrics as an excuse to come check on you," he explained.

"To check on me?"

"I know you had that character staying here, and well, to tell the truth, I didn't like him. He seemed dangerous, and you're too trusting sometimes. I wanted to make sure nothing had happened to you."

"And you're too suspicious, and you worry too much," Yumichika grinned in such a way that conveyed appreciation without the need for words. "And you'll be happy to know that he's not here anymore."

"Well, that's good news."

Yumichika inclined his head. "Perhaps."

"Don't tell me you miss him."

Yumichika shrugged. "I'm not sure. But you needn't worry about him anymore. He's gone, and I don't think he'll be coming back."

"What happened?"

Yumichika did not want to discuss it, so he deepened his gaze and using a voice that bordered on hypnotic, deflected the question. "Nothing that I wish to recount. I'd much rather look at the samples you've brought."

All thoughts of Ikkaku slipped from Hinsamoi's mind. Other more pleasant ideas filled the vacancy.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 Second Try and Fastuca

"_Sometimes I find myself searching  
><em>_As I walk the streets all alone.  
><em>_I'm searching the faces for someone.  
><em>_Someone to take me back home."_

_Who Knows?  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p>"<em>When will this rain stop?"<em> Yumichika asked himself as he hurried home through the dark. "_It's been going on like this for almost four days"._

The truth was that the rain didn't bother him. It didn't bother him at all, but it was more agreeable to him to grouse and concern himself with the weather than it was to let his mind go idle, for that was when thoughts of Ikkaku intruded.

Other than Hinsamoi's visit the day before, Yumichika had found little to distract him from the melancholy that had followed him home from Paikuu. He had spent an enjoyable evening with Youni the distiller, and even that had not given him much relief. Instead, it had only brought into sharper clarity the emptiness that he felt at Ikkaku's absence.

Madarame had been so different from the villagers. He hadn't been ready to fall at Yumichika's feet. His gruff and combative nature, for which Yumichika had chastised him and cast him off, was now revolving in Yumichika's mind as something he missed, something he had perhaps secretly enjoyed.

Yet, that did not mitigate the anger. The rest of the truth was that Ikkaku had inserted himself into a situation where he should not have tread. He had jeopardized Yumichika's standing with Imakao, and had it not been for Yumichika's own seductive abilities, that business and personal relationship might have been sundered.

That thought alone was enough to kindle Yumichika's indignant outrage, for it impacted directly on the one thing that Yumichika was not willing to compromise on.

Beauty.

Without Imakao's patronage, without Hinsamoi and Youni and the dozens of others with whom he conducted business, Yumichika would not be able to afford the world he had created for himself. The stunning clothes he made for his own wardrobe. The fine furnishings and décor that made his small home as elegant as a grand estate. The food he so enjoyed preparing. The regard and adulation of others.

Madarame had nearly come between Yumichika and all that he coveted. That was unforgiveable.

"_Nothing's unforgiveable,"_ Yumichika corrected himself as he entered his garden. _"But you'd be a fool if you let him ruin everything you've built since coming to Soul Society."_

"Another late night?"

Yumichika jumped and gave a small cry of surprise at the sound of Madarame's voice. He looked up to the porch where Ikkaku stepped out of the shadows.

"M-Madarame-san? What are you doing here?" he demanded in a voice that told Ikkaku that the anger had not subsided. "And jumping out of the shadows again?"

"I wasn't trying to scare you. I wanted to make sure you made it back safely."

"How did you get here?" Yumichika asked, not even the slightest crack showing in his obstinacy.

"I came on the shore road," Ikkaku replied, noting the coldness in Yumichika's demeanor.

"You made it in good time." Yumichika opened the door.

"I ran the whole way. After the way that storm crept up after you snuck off, I was—I wanted to know if you'd made it back safely."

"Well, you have your answer," Yumichika said carelessly. "Now, you can go on your way and not worry about it."

Ikkaku hesitated, but then his pride flared. He gave a curt nod, turned and walked towards the gate, the rain falling like a torrent around him. He had his hand on the latch when Yumichika's voice stopped him.

"Madarame!"

"Yeah?" He turned part way, regarding Yumichika with an impassive face.

The conflict in Yumichika's voice was plain. "Come inside until the rain stops."

A heady feeling of relief rippled through Ikkaku's body. It was a feeling very akin to weakness, and weakness was abhorrent to Ikkaku. Several days ago when he had first met Yumichika, he would have kept right on walking. There would not have been a voice in either the living world or Soul Society that could have called him back. Then again, he knew there was no voice that _would_ have called him back. Anyone else would have let him keep walking. Anyone else would have been happy to see him go.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Yumichika nodded. "I'm sure," he replied, although he sounded anything but enthusiastic.

Ikkaku crossed back through the garden and went inside. Yumichika closed the door behind him and lit the wall lantern by the door.

"Sit down and I'll make some tea—" Yumichika began, cutting off abruptly as he turned to regard Ikkaku in the light. There were bruises and swollen gashes on his face. His kosode was torn in several places, revealing damaged skin beneath. "You—you were fighting again?"

"Just a little skirmish," Ikkaku replied. "I ran into some road bandits on the way here."

"I don't believe this," Yumichika frowned, ushering Ikkaku over to sit down among the pillows near the cold brazier. "You were so worried about me getting back safely, yet you had time to stop for a fight."

"I didn't look for this one," Ikkaku replied. "They weren't going to let me pass, so I had to fight them. It was either that or give them the rest of the money you'd given me." He reached inside the kosode and drew out three coins. "You said to give you back whatever I didn't use."

Yumichika felt as if he'd been set up. His anger was starting to waver. He took the coins and set them aside, then lit the brazier and brought over another lamp to take a better look at Ikkaku's injuries.

Right away, he noticed signs of illness. "You're pale, but your face is flushed. You don't look well."

"I'm fine."

Yumichika reached out his hand and felt Ikkaku's forehead. "You're hot."

"I'm okay, just a little overheated," Ikkaku replied.

"You're getting sick, and I'm sure getting into a fight didn't help," Yumichika said in a voice that would brook no argument. "You can—you can—" he seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say, "You'd better let me take a look. Go change into something dry, and you—you may need to stay here a while until you're well."

"I'm not the one who should be getting sick," Ikkaku grumped. "You're the one who was getting all worked up and running around in the rain."

"You were running around a lot more than I was," Yumichika replied as he put the kettle on then began gathering the necessities for looking after Ikkaku's injuries. "Besides, you may be physically stronger than me, but I have a strong constitution. Maybe you have a weak one."

"Maybe you're just lucky," Ikkaku said, and his voice was already sounding drained. He stripped off his wet clothes and pulled on the blue night shift Yumichika had given him on the first day. He sunk down among the pillows around the brazier.

Yumichika tossed him a blanket. "Maybe I am just lucky – or maybe I'm not as weak as you think I am."

"Are you going to start a fight? I'm too tired to argue with you," Ikkaku said. "And I feel too crappy to get up and beat the daylights out of you." He closed his eyes and leaned back.

Yumichika began looking after his injuries and set out a small meal; but Ikkaku had no appetite, which told Yumichika that he really was ill.

Yumichika had skill at tending the ill. His temperament lent itself to doting, and so looking after the sick and injured came naturally to him, though he had little opportunity to practice.

He was not worried about Ikkaku. His injuries were many, but none of them serious. The fever was high but manageable – not dangerous to a man of Ikkaku's strength.

Still, Yumichika had ushered him into bed as soon as he had finished binding his injuries. The he settled down to watch over him. They hadn't even had any conversation, Ikkaku had been so exhausted and drifting into delirium. Yumichika only wondered how long the bout would last.

* * *

><p>Three days later.<p>

It was late afternoon, and Yumichika sat at his work bench, tooling a leather apron for Youni. He was just about finished when the sound of Ikkaku's voice startled him.

"I'm starving."

Yumichika set aside his work and went over to the futon.

"You're coherent again," he stated.

"And starving," Ikkaku grumbled.

"Yes, I heard you the first time," Yumichika replied. "I'll prepare something for you."

Yumichika heated some broth and cut a few pieces of bread.

Ikkaku pushed up onto his elbows. "I'm so tired."

"You should be," Yumichika replied. "You were pretty sick. But I think some fresh air will do you good. It's a beautiful day outside. Let's eat in the garden. Can you walk?"

Ikkaku snorted. "Of course, I can walk."

Even so, he accepted Yumichika's assistance out into the garden, where Yumichika saw him comfortably settled with a warm blanket around his shoulders and the meal set before him.

Ikkaku ate as if he'd never had a decent meal before. Yumichika refilled his plate until at last, Ikkaku's appetite was sated.

"Got any sake?" Ikkaku asked.

"Not for you," Yumichika replied. "Not when you're recovering from being sick. Don't be foolish."

Ikkaku grunted but did not argue. Then he did something he didn't do very often. "Thanks for taking care of me."

"You're welcome," Yumichika replied.

A brief silence followed, and then Ikkaku was direct. He had questions and he wanted answers. Yumichika did not have a lion's share on anger. "Why did you run off that night?"

Yumichika replied flatly, "You know why."

"I told you not to," Ikkaku went on.

"Am I obliged to do what you tell me?" Yumichika challenged.

"You're not obliged to do anything, but good sense would have told you to do as I said. You took that boat out in a storm and in the dark. That was a stupid risk."

"I'm here. I survived safe and sound. Look at you. Your own good sense would seem to have eluded you. You're sick, you're injured. I don't think I'm the one lacking in good sense," Yumichika replied with a cockiness that suited him very well. "I took care of you and nursed you back to health after you treated me so badly, and this is the thanks I get."

"I did what was right. I treated you better than you treated yourself," Ikkaku shot back with as much conviction as his weakened state would allow.

"That's absurd. You overreacted. It was only a dance—"

"No, it wasn't, Yumichika. It was an invitation. And every last one of them was ready to take you up on it." Ikkaku insisted in a serious voice.

Yumichika shrugged. "Maybe so, but that didn't happen, did it? Besides, I told you . . . I like the attention."

"It's the wrong kind of attention—"

"I've been doing it for years, and I've never had any trouble. You worry too much." He looked at Ikkaku with a delving expression. "Why are you worried about me anyway?"

"Because you don't realize the danger you're creating," Ikkaku replied. "Those people were mesmerized, and they wanted a lot more than what you were giving."

Again, Yumichika made a care-free gesture. "I'm used to it. I know how to handle them."

"Look, you can't control them. You—maybe you can keep them at bay now, but you won't always be able to, no matter how much you think you can."

The violet in Yumichika's eyes seemed to intensify and sparkle. An easiness smoothed his brow.

Ikkaku recognized the sensation immediately. He'd felt it that first day. It was as if his soul were rifting under, his will abandoning him. The only thing that mattered was Yumichika – a beauty too rare to be ignored, a temptation too alluring to be resisted. Even as he tried to pull himself back, he felt the draw increase.

At last, Yumichika turned away on the pretense of straightening his kimono. The link was abruptly ended.

"You were saying?" he asked expectantly.

Ikkaku was both angry and flustered. So, Yumichika _did_ have some kind of power over people – and even he, Ikkaku, was included among the susceptible. He had not considered himself to be so weak-minded.

"This is just a game to you, isn't it?" Ikkaku ground out.

"Not at all," came the indifferent reply. "But you refused to believe me, so I had to prove it—"

"I'm one person, Yumichika. You can't control hundreds—"

"I don't control anyone," Yumichika corrected. "They are simply astounded by my beauty."

"Well, obviously not everyone is astounded. That Masaka guy hated you."

"He was jealous. A lot of people are jealous of my looks."

"That's not it. The point is you couldn't control him," Ikkaku persisted. "Look, maybe you do have some kind of weird power, but I don't think you know how to use it or even completely understand it."

"And what is it to you if that's true?" Yumichika asked. "Our acquaintance is shortly over. You'll never have to wonder about it."

Ikkaku was caught silent. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd assumed that since Yumichika had taken him in and healed him that all had been forgiven and he'd be free to stay on. Apparently, Yumichika disagreed.

"You like to play dangerous games," Ikkaku stated. "And one day it will backfire on you. When it does, you'll wish you'd listened to me. You'll wish I were still around."

Yumichika sighed. "Not when you act like you did at Imakao's."

"I did it for your own good."

Yumichika groaned. "Madarame-san . . . if you want to make fun of the way I look or how I sit or do things, or that I don't know how to fight, I can deal with that. But you can't interfere with my livelihood."

"Putting yourself on display in some erotic dance doesn't count as livelihood," Ikkaku snorted.

"It does for me," Yumichika insisted. "Imakao is one of my best customers. If a little entertainment on my part brings in a better deal on his part, why complain?"

"Because it's not right, Yumichika," Ikkaku replied emphatically. "Right now, it's only dancing, but how long before that's not enough?"

"I'll deal with that when and if I have to. I'm able to take care of myself. But you haven't answered my question. What does it matter to you what I do?"

"It doesn't matter!" Ikkaku began to protest, but Yumichika stopped him, leaning forward and glaring into Ikkaku's eyes.

"Then why are you here? Why can't you just admit that you feel the same way about me that everyone else does?"

Ikkaku was stunned. "What?"

"They can't get enough. _You_ can't get enough," Yumichika replied. "Why don't you admit it? I'm used to it."

"What are you talking about?" Ikkaku demanded angrily.

"We've known each other for barely a week, and most of that time has been spent fighting, arguing and with you treating me coarsely. And yet, here you are again. You threaten to leave and you stay. I tell you to leave and you still come back. You can't stay away," Yumichika asserted.

Ikkaku grit his teeth. "Well, let me fix that right now." He stood up, feeling the pain in his side and trying not to show it.

"Don't be foolish, Madarame-san," Yumichika chastised. "You aren't near well enough to leave."

Ikkaku smirked. "So now, you're telling me to stay? I think deep down, you want me to stay." A wicked smile came into his expression. "I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to stay – as long as I please, because you need someone to keep you out of trouble—"

"I never have any trouble," Yumichika said in a haughty voice.

"And to cut your ego down to size," Ikkaku continued.

"If you think you can," Yumichika accepted the challenge with an indulgent grin. "But shouldn't you ask me if you can stay 'as long as you please'? I really need to teach you some manners."

A gleam appeared in Ikkaku's eyes. "If you think you can."

* * *

><p>The following months passed in much the same manner as that first week.<p>

Yumichika would spend mornings tending to whatever errands he had, then pass most of the day working on some piece of cloth or other. Ikkaku, for his own part, did a good job of staying out of Yumichika's business, although it was not easy. Ikkaku's distrust of Yumichika's acquaintances was intense, with the exception of Kaekae. And the fact that Yumichika kept late nights several times a week raised more than Ikkaku's hackles; it raised his suspicions. If Yumichika were out there performing more erotic dances, it was better if Ikkaku didn't know about them. And so, once he was fully recovered, he resumed his ventures into the neighboring villages and countryside looking for someone to fight. While such activity was dangerous in one aspect, it was good in another in that it took his mind away from his suspicions.

Ikkaku would be gone for any number of days, but he always returned – usually sporting injuries varying in severity. He returned hungry, petulant, and surly; but Yumichika was always able to smooth away the coarseness. He knew the things to say and do to quell Ikkaku's hostile and vitriolic nature; and he had become even more adept at weathering Ikkaku's caustic browbeatings and self-indulgent tantrums. He had learned that silence was an effective defense against Ikkaku's attempts to bait him into an argument. But most importantly, and perhaps most surprisingly, he was slowly coming to acknowledge that he enjoyed Ikkaku's company – and not simply as a project for improvement, but for reasons he could not define. The anger he had felt that night at Imakao's had been severe but short-lived. He never had been able to hold a grudge against anyone, and Ikkaku was no exception. He might have been the only person in all of Soul Society who could tolerate Ikkaku with equanimity.

Whereas others in Mito village had come to dread and detest the sight of Ikkaku, Yumichika found himself anxiously anticipating Ikkaku's returns from his journeys into the surrounding country. He was not the least bit hesitant about taking Ikkaku into the village with him on market days, although he continued to chastise him on his scowling, belligerent behavior. He actually enjoyed the idea that he was taking care of someone – in a manner of speaking.

As for Ikkaku, he could not have asked for a better situation. Quite unexpectedly, he had stumbled upon someone who was willing to feed him, mend his wounds, shelter him and provide every comfort. And for virtually nothing in return – nothing except that Ikkaku mind his own business and restrict his fighting to well outside Mito village.

Ikkaku did not give much consideration to Yumichika's motives, whatever they might be. He only counted his good luck and congratulated himself for being in the right place at the right time. These might be the best circumstances he had ever encountered. He even found humor in Yumichika's obsession with his own beauty; and he derived a certain amount of pleasure from teasing him, although his provocations rarely resulted in the sort of outbursts that he was trying to elicit.

And yet, there was a certain amount of discomfort associated with the arrangement. Ikkaku had come to the decision long ago that he would never again allow himself to care for anyone or anything. He would commit himself to no person, to no cause. His own experience had convinced him of the futility and pain of such attachments. Likewise, he had shunned and actively discouraged anyone who gave even the slightest hint of growing attached to him. Not that there had been many. His demeanor was so off-putting that he had little trouble repelling everyone he came into contact with.

He was not sure what made Yumichika different. In fact, he was not even sure Yumichika really was different. Yumichika had absolutely nothing to gain by being kind to him and everything to lose. Still, Yumichika was self-assured and stubborn. No matter how Ikkaku tried to provoke him, no matter how his neighbors and customers pushed him to abandon his acquaintance with Ikkaku, Yumichika stood his ground. It was almost as if, after the scene in Paikuu, Yumichika had determined that he would not allow himself to be dissuaded by Ikkaku's hostility or anyone else's opinion.

And that worried Ikkaku, for he wanted no attachments. No cares, no affection. He wanted only utility and confrontation, and he could count on Yumichika for both – although the confrontations progressed only as far as Yumichika would let them. Ikkaku was starting to sense a degree of devotion on Yumichika's part, and he wanted none of it. He would not risk going down that road again.

And so, as the months passed, his sojourns into the surrounding villages grew longer. The days spent apart would help maintain more than just the physical distance between them; it would ensure the emotional distance as well. Best of all, it would still allow Ikkaku to make use of Yumichika's many offerings, for he continued to view Yumichika as a place to stay, food to eat, and tolerable company when desired. He was free to come and go as he pleased, and his presence did not seem to place any constraints on Yumichika's life. From what he could discern, Yumichika was still popular with the villagers, went about his business without issue, and kept his late nights while still managing to rise before the sun.

It was a perfect arrangement, and it suited both of them just fine.

Until Ikkaku didn't return.

It happened nearly six months after their first meeting. Ikkaku had taken off late one morning with no word as to when he would return or precisely where he was going – mainly because he never knew the answer to either question. He wandered until he found someone to fight or until he grew bored; then he would return to Yumichika for few days to recuperate before setting off again.

During these absences, Yumichika did not worry. Ikkaku always came back. He was never gone for more than ten days. But when three weeks passed with no Ikkaku and not even a message, Yumichika's concern began to grown.

The idea that something might happen to Ikkaku had always hinted in the back of Yumichika's mind, but it had seemed like an impossibility.

Now, he knew he had been wrong. With each day beyond the first week, his concern had turned into worry and then into fear by the third week. When he announced to Hinsamoi his intention to go to the nearby villages in search of Ikkaku, he was met with disapproval and something bordering on anger.

"I'll never understand you, Yumichika-kun," Hinsamoi said. "Madarame hasn't done anything but freeload off you. Why are willing to risk your life for him?"

Yumichika gave a disarming smile. "Risk my life? I'm not risking my life. I'm just going to look for him - in villages that I visit frequently."

"I don't see why." Hinsamoi shook his head.

"I can't explain it, either," Yumichika replied with a shrug. "I like having him around."

"You're the only one," Hinsamoi pointed out.

Yumichika was not deterred. "I know. But it's how I feel."

"You know, a lot of your customers are worried. He looks at all of us as if we're the enemy, and he's just looking for a reason to cause trouble so he can fight with us," Hinsamoi said, his voice a combination of fretfulness and warning.

"Then you can reassure them. Madarame learned his lesson about interfering in my business, and he won't do anything to cause me trouble. That means he won't cause any of you trouble," Yumichika replied.

"I don't trust him, Yumichika-kun," Hinsamoi stated bluntly. "I don't trust him not to hurt you."

Yumichika smiled again. "Seykama, I can promise you . . . he won't hurt me."

"I don't know how you can be so certain," Hinsamoi frowned. "He's a dangerous man. You've been able to keep him quiet, and I don't want to know how you're managing to do it; but I'm afraid the second you don't give him what he wants, he's going to turn on you."

Yumichika inclined his head in a manner of accommodation. "I'm touched by your concern," he said, "And I give you my word that if I ever feel threatened by him, you'll be the first to know."

Yumichika left the next day. He went first to Sendar and then to Paikuu. In Paikuu, he spoke to one of his customers who had seen Ikkaku passing through more than two weeks earlier, and finding no adversaries, he had disappeared the same day, heading out of town on the road to Fastuca to the south.

Fastuca was a fairly large town, a day's journey on foot, and Yumichika arrived late in the afternoon. He had many contacts in the town, as he did very good business there with some of the wealthier citizens.

His first stop was a finery shop in the main street, owned by a man named Somo Dekamaki.

When he entered the shop, there were several customers; but the moment Somo saw him, he rushed over with an excited grin scrawled across his broad features, leaving his other customers to his clerk.

"Ayasegawa-san! This is a pleasant surprise! I didn't expect to see you for another month at least. What brings you here? Are you buying or selling?" came the rush of words.

"Neither, actually," Yumichika replied with a genial smile. "Dekamaki-san, I'm looking for someone. I thought he might have come to the town."

"Who is it?"

"His name is Ikkaku Madarame."

"That doesn't sound familiar," Somo replied, thoughtfully stroking his chin.

"He has a shaved head and narrow eyes. He would have come here looking for a fight," Yumichika explained. He saw recognition dawning in Somo's eyes.

"So, that's his name," the merchant said, sounding disgusted. "Not that it matters. He's here. He bit off a little more than he could chew, and now the Sisters are looking after him."

The Sisters were a spiritual group brought together by their dedication to caring for the sick and injured. They had a cloister-type dwelling atop a low hill outside the town where they lived and ran a house of healing.

"Was he hurt that badly?" Yumichika asked, his voice filled with concern.

"I suppose," Somo replied. "It's not as if he didn't ask for it. He did everything he could to provoke a fight." He paused. "What's your interest in him, Ayasegawa-san? How do you know him?"

"I met him several months ago," Yumichika replied. "He's been staying with me."

"Staying with you? Why would you take him in?"

Yumichika was not in the mood for talk. He wanted only to get to the cloister.

"That's hard to say," he replied equably. "Perhaps I can explain it later. Right now, I'm worried about him, and I'd like to go to the Sisters. You won't be insulted if I leave, will you?"

"Insulted, no. Confused, yes," the merchant said. "But you've always done your own thing. Go, go on. You're a better man than I could ever be. I would have left him to die. But maybe you can turn him around."

"Thank you," Yumichika said, inclining his head. "I owe you."

It took him only twenty minutes to walk to the cloister where he was received by an elderly woman who was reluctant to let him in at first. Once Yumichika had expressed his purpose and pleaded his case, she led him into a sitting room. He waited alone for several minutes as the woman went to fetch the head of the house, a middle-aged woman with bright eyes and an attractive smile.

Yumichika stood up as she entered.

"I am Nova Marika," she introduced herself. "You have come to see Madarame?"

Yumichika offered a shallow bow, even though he wasn't sure if it were appropriate or required. Nova Marika just seemed so pious that he felt it was the right thing to do.

"Yes," he replied. "I'm a friend of his, Yumichika Ayasegawa."

"Ah. Well, then I'm glad you're here," she said. "He's still very ill."

"What happened?" Yumichika asked.

"Apparently, he came into town looking for trouble. He made the unfortunate mistake of engaging with one of our local metalworkers, who alone is a formidable man. And who has a lot of friends," Nova Marika explained.

"I see," Yumichika frowned.

"I would like to be able to say they taught him a lesson, but I don't think he learned a thing," she went on with a sigh. "He keeps saying he can't wait to heal so he can get revenge."

"That sounds like Madarame," Yumichika acknowledged. "But he's going to be alright, isn't he?"

"If he gives himself time to rest and heal," she replied. "But he's not a very restful man. Come, I'll take you to him."

As they walked through the echoing halls, she continued speaking. "He should be happy to see you; although with him, it's never as it should be."

Her words struck Yumichika as curious. "What do you mean?"

"You said your name is Yumichika? Well, when he was first brought to us, in his delirium, he kept speaking your name," she explained.

Yumichika was both pleased and stunned. "He did?"

"He did," Nova Marika confirmed. "But once he regained his senses, and we asked him about you—because we thought it would be good if we could send for you—he denied even knowing anyone with that name. He was quite adamant that there was no one we should send for."

"Well . . . I suppose . . . perhaps he didn't want to cause me any trouble," Yumichika put forth without any belief behind his words.

"Perhaps," the Sister replied. After a pause, she remarked, "He is a very angry man. Do you know why?"

"No," Yumichika answered. 'I've never even asked him. We've known each other for almost seven months, but I . . . I think he wouldn't tell me even if I did ask. Why? Did he say something to you?"

She shook her head. "Nothing that would explain such rage. I was hoping you would be able to shed some light on the subject."

"I'm as in the dark as you are, Sister," Yumichika replied. "Madarame's been like that since the day we met. He isn't as belligerent to me as he is to everyone else, but I have to work hard to keep him from causing problems. He doesn't tell me much about himself, so if there's something that happened in his past, I don't know what it is. And I doubt he'll ever tell me. He stays with me because I'm useful to him."

"Useful?"

Yumichika colored. "I take care of him."

"I see." She was thoughtful. "And in return, he . . . ?"

Yumichika considered. "He keeps me company . . . when he's not out looking for fights. He makes me feel needed, even though he likes to tell me he doesn't care about me. Maybe that's true, but I don't think so. I'm not sure. He's a hard one to figure out. Of course, if it weren't for my beauty and my well-stocked pantry, he probably would have moved on already."

"Your beauty?"

Yumichika's face burned crimson now. He'd become so used to his own arrogance that statements of self-adulation just slipped from his lips without any thought as to the audience. "I—I'm sorry," he stammered. "I meant that—"

"Why are you apologizing?" Nova Marika asked with a humorous tone in her voice. "You _are_ beautiful. There is no shame in that. It only dismays me to hear you say that your beauty and your ability to provide a meal are the only reasons Madarame is friends with you."

"Maybe there are other reasons," Yumichika admitted. "But I don't know what they are."

They stopped at a door to one of the rooms.

"I am sure there are other reasons," Nova Marika stated. "And even Madarame may not know what they are." She opened the door and ushered Yumichika inside.

When he entered the room, it was to see one of the Sisters standing over Ikkaku's bed, changing his dressings.

"Madarame-san, you have a visitor," Nova Marika announced.

Yumichika stepped forward.

"Yumichika . . ." The look on Ikkaku's face was a cross between a scowl and a frown.

But that didn't matter to Yumichika. "Madarame-san," he said, sounding relieved. "I'm glad I found you."

Nova Marika spoke up. "Sister Nellette, go ahead and finish up quickly. You can come back later if necessary."

"Yes, Matron."

Yumichika stood by and watched her work, also taking in Ikakku's ragged appearance. He had definitely not won his last fight – that was visible in his injuries. His head was wrapped in bandages, as were both arms, and from what Yumichika could see, so were his ribs. He could only guess at what injuries were hidden beneath the covers.

The Sister finished her work in less than five minutes, then she left the room, giving Yumichika a humble nod on the way out.

Yumichika sat on the wooden stool beside the bed.

"What are you doing here?" Ikkaku asked, his voice strangely accusative beneath the veneer of pain.

Yumichika ignored the tone. "I was worried about you. You've been gone a long time."

"How did you find me?"

"I just set off and started looking. I asked around in the villages," Yumichika explained.

"Now you've found me. What do you plan to do?"

"I'll help them take care of you," Yumichika replied.

Ikkaku stared him with scrutiny in his eyes. After a long silence, he asked, "Why? Why would you come looking for me? That doesn't make any sense."

"I told you, I came looking for you because I was worried—" Yumichika began.

"You have no reason to worry about me," Ikkaku cut him off.

"What's the matter with you? You've been staying with me for nearly seven months. Of course I was worried when you didn't come back."

Ikkaku regarded him evenly. "I didn't want you to come here."

"Why not? Why should it bother you if I help them take care of you? You don't seem to mind when I wait on you hand and foot in my own home. Why is this so different?" Yumichika challenged.

"Because I don't want you following me around or looking for me—"

"What about at Imakao's when you came looking for me?"

"That has nothing to do with this," Ikkaku replied.

"You came looking for me because you were worried—"

"No, I wasn't!"

"Yes, you were!" Yumichika persisted. "Just like I was worried about you. I don't know why you're being so difficult about this."

Ikkaku was silent. This was exactly what he did not want. Never, _never_ had anyone cared enough about him to go looking for him. Not in the world of the living. Not in Soul Society. Never had anyone given a damn whether he lived or died. And he wasn't ready or willing to start dealing with such things now. Whatever sentiments Yumichika felt that had brought him here were not shared by Ikkaku – and they never would be. He would not allow Yumichika's growing attachment to breach his defenses and undo the callous indifference he'd spent so many years cultivating.

"Yumichika," he said at last in a quiet voice. "I don't want you here."

Yumichika drew back. "But . . . why?"

"I don't feel like trying to explain," Ikkaku answered. "Look, I'm tired. I'm in pain. I just want some rest."

Yumichika frowned deeply. "I don't want to leave. Not until I know you're out of danger."

"But I don't want you here," Ikkaku reiterated. "I'm already out of danger. You can see that."

Yumichika hung in place for several long seconds. At last, he turned and headed for the door. "I'm not leaving," he said over his shoulder. "I'm just going to step out before you work yourself into a frenzy." He had his hand on the door when Ikkaku's voice stopped him.

"I don't understand you."

"I don't understand you, either, so we're even," Yumichika replied.

Ikkaku shook his head. "No, I don't understand why you care, why you_ want _to care."

Yumichika was dumbfounded. "It—it's not a conscious decision, you know. You either care or you don't. It just happens."

"Well, it hasn't happened to me, so don't expect me to care in return," Ikkaku grunted.

"It's too late. You already do," Yumichika asserted. "You can deny it as much as you want, but that doesn't change it."

"Either way, I don't want you here," Ikkaku insisted. "I want you to go back home."

Yumichika grit his teeth. "Idiot," he said under his breath and stepped out the door.

Ikkaku listened as Yumichika's footsteps retreated down the hallway.

He'd hurt him.

He'd meant to hurt him, and he'd succeeded.

The little thorns of guilt pricking at his conscience were not enough to make him regret what he'd done. And he wasn't so naïve as to think that such a small verbal scuffle was enough to deter Yumichika. If there was one thing he'd learned over the past seven months, it was that Yumichika was tenacious.

But the shock and near-panic Ikkaku had felt upon seeing Yumichika enter the room had brought to the forefront the very fear he'd been suppressing.

Yumichika had somehow, despite Ikkaku's worst characteristics, come to care about him.

And even worse, Ikkaku could not deny that he did feel something for Yumichika. Or, more accurately, he could deny it – he did deny it – but he wasn't fooling anyone, including himself. He'd been unwise to think he could stay in one place for so long without developing any kind of attachment. He'd been a fool for allowing comfort to override instinct. But his biggest mistake had been in believing that Yumichika posed no threat to his self-imposed isolation. Why he hadn't noticed it during the past seven months could only be attributed to the fact of his living within the dream. Being in Yumichika's presence had a disarming effect, the ability to distract a man from his own wants and demands. But the long separation and forced inactivity brought on by his hospitalization had reminded Ikkaku in a very brutal way of what his proper state in life should be, of the importance of holding onto the things he deemed worthy, of not allowing himself to be distracted by kindness or beauty.

He did not want or need friendship. He did not want the temptations that came with being around Yumichika – the temptation to trust, to be charitable, to indulge in a comfortable life.

But most of all, he did not want the possibility of loss. And if a man possessed nothing, he could lose nothing.

* * *

><p>Yumichika could not remember how to get back to the sitting room where he had entered. In his flustered state of mind, he went up one corridor and down the next, passing several Sisters who regarded him with curiosity, growing more frustrated with each wrong turn, until finally he found himself standing on one side of a cloister walk with absolutely no idea where to go next.<p>

In the center of the walk was a garden with a bubbling fountain in the middle. A circle of stone benches surrounded it.

Yumichika sat down on one of the benches. He did not know whether to be angry or sad, but it was of little consequence, because he ended up feeling both emotions, although perhaps anger a bit more than sadness.

He had only begun to delve into his thoughts when Nova Marika sat down beside him.

"Several of the Sisters told me they saw a man wandering through the halls," she began, her voice gentle. "I knew that could only be you, since Madarame is not well enough to be up yet. Your visit is over already?"

"He doesn't want me here," Yumichika replied. "He told me to leave."

"Are you going to?"

Yumichika shrugged and shook his head in confusion. "I don't know. I don't know what to do. I don't want to leave, but I can't stay if he doesn't want me around."

"Of course, you can," Sister countered. "And you should. You're probably the best medicine for him."

"That's not what he thinks," Yumichika grunted. "He doesn't want me to care about him, and he doesn't want to care about me."

"But he does care."

"I know that," Yumichika sighed. "But he doesn't like it that he cares. I don't know why, but he wants to hate everyone, and he wants everyone to hate him."

"Do you believe him?"

That was a good question, and Yumichika did not have a solid answer. "Sometimes I do. He can be so thoughtless." He paused. "But there are other times when he really . . . he may do the wrong thing, but it's for the right reason."

"Perhaps he makes it appoint to cast off others before they can cast him off," Nova Marika postulated. "I imagine you're the only friend he has in the entire world. You may be the only friend he's ever had." She stood up. "Stay. You can help look after him, whether he likes it or not. It will do him good, even if he refuses to acknowledge it. You can stay in our visitor rooms. Come, and I'll have Nova Imchalay show you where you will stay."

Yumichika hesitated. "Do you really think that's a good idea?"

Nova Marika faced him with a wisdom in her eyes that reflected a lifetime and more of knowledge. "For Madarame, absolutely. For you . . . well, you need to ask yourself if you still want to be friends with him. Because if you leave now, you will never see him again. He'll take that as confirmation of everything he already believes. If you stay, there's always a chance – a good one, I'd say – that he'll choose to maintain your friendship."

Yumichika drew in a deep breath. "I hope so."

He would stay.

* * *

><p>"I don't need your help, so stop making such a fuss over me!"<p>

"If I let go of you right now, you'll fall flat on your face."

"You can hardly support me as it is, you're so frail."

"Ha! You're more frail than I am right now!"

"Only because they don't feed me right in this place! You're a better cook than they are! Why are you out here when you should be back in the kitchen teaching these biddies how to cook?"

_Whump!_

Ikkaku found himself flat on his face, just as Yumichika had predicted.

"What did you do that for?" he roared, craning his head to look back over his shoulder.

"Because you asked for it," Yumichika replied, putting his hands squarely on his hips. "Literally.'

"Are you just going to leave me lying here? Where's Nova Carmita?"

"She got smart and left at the first sound of your yelling," Yumichika said. "I, on the other hand, was too stupid to run when I had the chance."

"Get me up from here!" Ikkaku demanded.

Yumichika helped him to his feet.

"How am I supposed to heal if you just let me drop on the floor?" Ikkaku snarled.

"Maybe you could stop giving me reasons to want to drop you on the floor," Yumichika replied with a stubbornness to match Ikkaku's. He started leading him over to a tall chair against the wall at the far end of the hall. "Honestly, over the last six months—make that seven—I've spent more time treating your injuries and putting you back together than I have on tailoring. I've been here taking care of you for almost an entire week. You couldn't even get out of bed when I got here. One would think you'd be a little more appreciative."

"You're giving me a headache," Ikkaku grumbled, but there was an underlying current of levity in his voice.

"Good!" Yumichika shot back. Inwardly, he smiled. Nova Marika had been right in her advice. While Ikkaku had initially reacted with hostility upon discovering that Yumichika had not, in fact, left the house of healing, his protests had died down quickly as Yumichika slid into his role as caretaker. Yumichika's temper was as long as Ikkaku's was short, and the contentious manner with which they dealt with each other was precisely what Ikkaku had needed to boost his spirit and speed his healing. At this rate he would be well enough to leave by the end of the week.

Yumichika reminded himself that he owed a special word of gratitude to Nova Marika. Not only his own thanks, but Ikkaku's as well.

* * *

><p>"Journey safely." Nova Marika stood at the gate that separated the cloister from the outside world. "Use caution, for it looks like snow."<p>

"We will, Sister," Yumichika assured her. "And thank you again. Thank all the Sisters."

Ikkaku nodded and added a meager, "Yeah."

But Nova Marika needed no thanks. She waved her hand. "Go in peace." Then she added with a smile, "And try to keep him out of trouble, Ayasegawa-san."

"I will."

Ikkaku turned and started walking. Yumichika followed him.

They took the long way around Fastuca to avoid running into any of the men whom Ikkaku had fought. Two hours later they came to a crossroads.

Ikkaku took the road leading to the east.

"Where are you going? Mito is this way," Yumichika pointed out.

"I know. I'm going to check out some other villages," Ikkaku replied. "I'll be back in a week or two."

Yumichika was struck speechless. He had been absolutely certain that Ikkaku would go back to Mito with him. The thought that Ikkaku might have other plans had never entered his mind. He was too disappointed to reply, but he kept his countenance neutral. At length, he gave a nod. As he turned and resumed walking, he heard Ikkaku's voice.

"What's wrong now?"

"I thought, after being away for so long, you'd want to come home for a little while before setting off again," he replied, stopping and speaking over his shoulder.

_Home?_ It was a foreign concept to Ikkaku, and it had the odd effect of both attracting and repelling him.

"No, I need to get out and move around for a while. I've been cooped up in that place for weeks. I need some open air," he replied.

"Suit yourself."

"You could come with me, if you want," Ikkaku offered.

"I can't," Yumichika answered. 'I've got to get home. I have things to do. I've been away for almost an entire month." He started walking again.

"I'll be back in a week or two," Ikkaku emphasized. He watched as Yumichika kept walking. And even though Yumichika was silent, Ikkaku could sense the despair.

There were those feelings of guilt again.

* * *

><p>The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of pink and orange. It was beautiful, normally something Yumichika would have reveled in. But this evening, it was just the moment before darkness, a reason for him to step up the pace. He still had at least two hours ahead of him.<p>

His thoughts upon leaving Ikkaku had not improved. While he truly believed Ikkaku's intention to come back to Mito, he could not comprehend why he would not return with him now. Yes, they had spent the last two weeks together, but in a house of healing! Had those two weeks been so pressing that Ikkaku had genuinely felt the need to be out and away from Yumichika? Or was it simply that the need to fight overpowered every other consideration.

What difference did it make? The fact was that Ikkaku, despite everything Yumichika had done for him, would rather occupy himself outside of Yumichika's company than within it.

The anger was starting to simmer again when suddenly two men emerged from the woods in front of him. From the way they moved to stand directly in his path, he knew immediately that he was in danger.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" the first man said in a lewd voice. He was a hulking man dressed in ruffian clothes, his face pitted and scarred, his eyes yellowing and runny.

His companion was tall and thin with long, stringy hair, sunken cheeks and bulging eyes. He wore what looked like the fraying remnants of a haori.

Both of them had scabbards at their waists.

"You're a man," the second man said, squinting and contributing to his demonic appearance.

"If you're thinking of robbing me, I have nothing to take," Yumichika said calmly.

"Oh, I don't know about that," the first man said. "That's a fine kimono you're wearing. You look like you're pretty well off."

"I make clothes," Yumichika replied. "That doesn't make me wealthy. I'm not carrying any money." He heard a noise behind him and turned to see two more men emerge from the woods.

A highway gang. Chances were they had been trailing him for some time in the woods, waiting for him to get far enough away from any village as to prevent anyone interfering.

"So, turn it over," the first man went on.

Yumichika looked at him. "Turn what over?"

"Everything. That kimono and anything else you have. You've got something in that bag. We'll take that, too."

Yumichika steeled himself. Four of them. All hideous. But he could do this. He had to. He reached down deep inside himself to draw on his greatest strength. He fixed his eyes on the first man and spoke in a measured voice.

"I don't have anything." He moved a little closer. "And if I give you my clothes, I'll have nothing to wear."

The man stared back at him and did not speak.

"I'm not worth the effort," Yumichika continued. "Please let me go my way."

For a long moment, the man was silent, unable to take his eyes from Yumichika.

"Will you let me pass?" Yumichika's voice was barely above a whisper.

Before the man could answer, Yumichika heard a scream from behind him. He turned to see two men lying either dead or dying on the road and a flash of movement as someone raced past him. Turning around again, he caught sight of a flurry of commotion and when it was over, the other two would-be attackers lay in the roadway, pools of blood slowly spreading beneath them.

Yumichika could barely speak.

"I-Ikkaku?"

"Oh, so you've finally decided to call me by my first name. 'Bout time."

"What—what are you—why did you—what—what . . . " Yumichika stammered, clearly shaken by the scene before him.

"You're not used to seeing death, are you?" Ikkaku supposed. "Then don't look at it."

"But you—you didn't have to—you didn't have to—to—"

Ikkaku took him by the arm and started walking him away from the scene.

"Yes, I did," he replied. "They would have robbed you and then killed you. This is precisely why you need to learn how to fight."

"But I had things—I had things under control," Yumichika protested.

"Are you kidding? That'd be you lying dead in the road right now if I hadn't come along. I've been following you this whole time. Good thing, too."

"Following me? Why?"

Ikkaku suddenly became awkward and lowered his eyes to stare at the road before them. "Because I felt bad about what happened. I mean, you did come looking for me. You stayed with me and took care of me for the last two weeks. I figured I should at least make sure you made it home safely."

Yumichika looked at him with wide-eyed surprise. "Is that the truth?"

"Does it sound like I'm lying?" Ikkaku scolded.

"I'm just surprised," Yumichika said honestly.

Ikkaku nodded. "I know. Me, too." He saw that Yumichika could not stop himself from stealing a glance back over his shoulder where the littered road was falling further and further behind. "Don't look. It's better if you don't look."

"It's better if I do look," Yumichika replied. "If I'm going to be around you, I'm going to see a lot more of it. I guess I should start trying to get used to it." The very thought sickened him, but it was a truth he could not deny.

Being with Ikkaku entailed an intimacy with death.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 The Trade

_"I was lost on the far side of that mountain.  
><em>_Did you try to find me?  
><em>_I was left on your doorstep one gray morning.  
><em>_No, you never had to buy me."_

_Heart of Steel  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p>Ikkaku mopped the sweat from his brow. As if last summer had not been sweltering enough, this summer was even worse. In fact, the heat had driven him back to Mito much sooner than he'd planned. He'd only been gone for ten days, and he'd intended this sojourn to be at least two or three weeks.<p>

After living on and off at Yumichika's home for almost a year, he'd settled in quite comfortably. He had continued his adventures into the surrounding area; and taking Yumichika into consideration, he did his best to say how long he would be gone and made every effort to return on time.

He had given Yumichika little reason to berate him; and in return, Yumichika had grown even more accommodating. They had come to a fairly peaceful coexistence, punctuated by bouts of verbal jousting and the occasional physical contest, which Ikkaku always won unless Yumichika unleashed his seductive capabilities, which he did not do often – not against Ikkaku, at least. However, Ikkaku was quite confident that he used those powers against the other villagers. It was the one area of greatest contention between them. Ikkaku hated Yumichika's ability, and he hated it even more when he used it. He could no longer deny its existence, not after seeing it in action. It made him uneasy, but he could not stop Yumichika from using it. And its existence was not enough to keep him away from the comfort and companionship Yumichika offered.

The sun dropped below the horizon, and at last the temperature eased to a comfortable warmth. It would make the last two hours of his journey tolerable. He pushed on until at last he could see the lights of Mito.

He had come along the shore road, and as he neared the first of the hutches, he suddenly felt a longing, a deep desire to be in Yumichika's presence: to enjoy the coolness of the garden, the comfort of a real bed, the simple goodness of the meals Yumichika prepared, but most of all, the pleasure of Yumichika's attention.

Every step increased the desire until it was like a flame consuming his every thought. And then he heard it: a sound he had heard before, a gentle humming and wordless melody. It was coming from the direction of the hutches, and Ikkaku recognized it immediately. He followed one of the walkways out into the darkness of the moss-covered trees, and then, quite unexpectedly, a light caught his eye. It looked like a single lamp glowing hazily near the last of the hutches, close to the open sea. Ikkaku followed the light and the sounds of intermittent humming and now occasional singing. The full moon cast a light through the openings in the trees and into a small water glen, and there, swimming languidly was Yumichika. He was alone, singing to himself and clearly relishing the moment.

Ikkaku's first instinct, as usual, was that this was dangerous. Who knew what else was swimming in that water? But as he watched, his thoughts changed. The idea of danger and caution gave way to freedom and abandon. Yumichika seemed very happy at that moment, and Ikkaku felt himself settling into a more comfortable position as a voyeur.

He observed that Yumichika swam very well – seemed utterly natural and at home in the water. And the way he laughed and smiled to himself was beguiling. When he finally climbed out of the water onto one of the walkways, the dappled moonlight reflected in the droplets of water on his skin. Ikkaku had seen him naked before, and his opinion never changed: Yumichika was too thin and not muscular enough. But he was pleasant to look at, as far as such things went.

As he stood wringing the water out of his hair, it was almost as if he were performing, as if he knew he was being watched. He then sat down on the walkway and lay back, propping one knee up, his arms resting at his sides. He looked like a sculpture of finest marble – tempting enough to entice even the most jaded observer.

It was then that Ikkaku felt the presence of another person. Someone else was watching. He sank deeper into the reeds, desperate not to be seen yet hoping to catch sight of whomever else was there. But he saw nothing and heard nothing except for Yumichika. Eventually, the sensation of another soul faded away. At length, when he felt he could move undetected, he stepped back along the walkway but continued watching from a distance, still worried for Yumichika's safety. Another thirty minutes passed, then Yumichika stood up, put on his kimono, and started walking back to the shore.

Ikkaku, feeling things were now safe, raced on ahead of him. He reached the machiya well before Yumichika arrived and was able to assume a pretense of long waiting.

As Yumichika entered the garden, Ikkaku stood up from where he had been sitting on the porch.

"Madarame-san!" Yumichika greeted him with a broad smile. "You're back again!"

"And again I have to wait," Ikkaku groused. "You're never here."

"That's because I never know when you'll be returning, and I have things to do," Yumichika replied, but his voice belied a certain sly knowledge.

Ikkaku waved off this explanation. "Can we go inside? I'm starving."

Once inside, Yumichika went first to the wardrobe, where he selected a dark green kimono and traded it for the damp one he was wearing, placing the latter out on the washporch to dry. Then he set about preparing a meal.

"Where did you go this time?" he asked.

"South," Ikkaku replied. "The other side of the Ulandsee."

Yumichika looked up in alarm. "You didn't go to Fastuca, did you?"

"I might have—"

"Ikkaku!" he fretted. "After what happened last time, you know I don't want you going there!"

"Relax," Ikkaku said. "I didn't go into the town, just the outskirts."

Yumichika was not pacified. "I've asked you to stay away from there altogether."

But if Yumichika were being hard-headed, so was Ikkaku.

"I went to visit the Sisters. But forget about where I go. I want to know where you go every night. You're never here when I come back, and when I am here, you're out all hours on _business_," Ikkaku retorted. "What do you get up to at night, Yumichika?"

A smile formed slowly on Yumichika's face. "If you're so worried about what I do at night, why didn't you join me?"

"Join you?"

"In the water."

Ikkaku felt his throat tighten. "What are you talking about?"

Yumichika rolled his eyes. "I've told you before . . . your riatsu is hard to miss."

Ikkaku felt like a fool, and that feeling made him angry. "You bastard," he ground out.

Yumichika chuckled.

"Oh, you think this is funny?" Ikkaku spat.

Yumichika shrugged. "A little bit, maybe."

"You could have told me you knew I was there," Ikkaku accused.

"You could have told me you were there instead of spying on me."

"I wasn't spying on you!"

"What else would you call it?"

Ikkaku was too flustered to find a clever answer. "So, that whole thing – you put on that little show because you knew I was there?"

"Well, not exactly," Yumichika replied.

"Not exactly? What the hell does that mean?" Ikkaku challenged, then he recalled the sensation of someone else's presence. "You—you knew someone else besides me was watching?"

Yumichika set a plate of dried fish and figs on the table and turned back to start the rice. "Someone always is. It's part of the whole fascination with me."

Ikkaku's jaw dropped. "Yumichika, what's the matter with you? That's—that's crazy! That's dangerous and . . . it's not . . . it's not decent. You're out of your mind."

Yumichika faced Ikkaku and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Decent? This coming from a man who fights for the thrill of it. That's not decent, and it's dangerous. I'm being lectured on moral behavior by a barbarian—"

In the next moment, he found himself in a headlock.

"Be careful what you say," Ikkaku warned playfully. "You won't always be able to use that little trance of yours to get you out of trouble."

Yumichika was having too much fun to even try.

"And don't think you can insult me with impunity," Ikkaku went on. "You once accused me of having no manners. Well, that's better than having bad manners."

"Okay, okay," Yumichika conceded. "I'm sorry. Now, let me go."

"Not until you tell me why you didn't acknowledge that I was there. Why do you want to make a fool out of me?" Ikkaku demanded.

"I wasn't trying to make a fool out of you," Yumichika replied. His next words startled Ikkaku. "I wanted you to stop hiding and come join me. Would it have been that hard?"

Ikkaku released him, and Yumichika straightened up, regarding him earnestly.

"Anyone can leer at me from the shadows, but you're different. I thought you were brave enough to come out and go for a swim, too. Can't we do things like that together?"

It was an odd question, yet Ikkaku knew it was meant in pure, open innocence. Yumichika was used to being ogled, and perhaps that was part of the problem – he was the recipient of no genuine affection.

"I guess so," Ikkaku mumbled. "But I'm still pissed off that you didn't tell me. Just how well are you able to sense my presence anyway?"

"I can tell when you're near, as long as I'm not focused on something else." Yumichika paused. "It helped that I happened to be thinking about you at that moment."

Ikkaku's alarm went off again. "Thinking about me? Why?"

Yumichika put some water on for tea. "I was wondering when you were coming back." He hunched his shoulders self-consciously. "I missed you, if you can believe that."

Ikkaku swallowed. "Yumichika . . . I warned you not to get attached to me."

"You're attached to me," Yumichika returned as a justification of sorts.

"There's a big difference" Ikkaku insisted.

"Oh? How so?"

"I know you'll always be here. You're never going away." Ikkaku paused. "I may leave one day and never come back."

"Of course, you'll come back." He smiled. '"You can't stay away."

"I may get hurt or killed. Or I may find somewhere else I'd rather stay."

Yumichika was still smiling. "If you don't come back, I'll go look for you like I did last time."

"That's what I'm talking about. That's what I don't want. I don't like those kinds of attachments," Ikkaku objected.

"Well, it's too late," Yumichika replied. He pushed the fish and figs across the table. "Eat some more and stop worrying about me. I can take care of myself. I make my own decisions."

Maybe that was true. Maybe Yumichika needed no one to look out for his best interests. Still, it seemed to Ikkaku that his host had a blind spot when it came to the risks involved in his own activities.

But Ikkaku was not blind, although sometimes he wished he were. There were things he would rather not see.

* * *

><p>"You're not really going, are you?" Ikkaku's voice was a mixture of disappointment and scoffing. It was the following evening, and he was lounging on the floor where he normally slept.<p>

Yumichika pulled himself away from the mirror and his primping long enough to cast an amiable grin in Ikkaku's direction. "I've already told you, you don't have to come. In fact, it'd be better if you didn't. You'll only end up getting into a fight." He paused and added wryly. "Besides, I might decide to dance, and that would make you furious."

"If I'm there, you won't dance. I'd see to that."

"That would ruin everyone's fun," Yumichika said with a wave of his hand. "Better you stay here."

That was all Ikkaku needed. "I'm going," he decided.

Yumichika smiled to himself. Ikkaku was predictable enough, and Yumichika had gotten what he'd wanted all along: Ikkaku's company. He knew Ikkaku would never willingly go to a village festival, and so he had to resort to mind games to lure him. And the truth was, Yumichika didn't really fear a violent outburst, for Ikkaku had shown incredible restraint ever since Fastuca.

"If you're sure," he put forth. "I don't want to force you."

"You can't force me to do anything," Ikkaku said. "But if I see _you_ doing anything stupid, I'm going to stop it."

Yumichika was not going to argue. "Very well, but if you feel you must stop me, then at least do it discreetly."

"No promises," Ikkaku replied. "It's better if you just don't do anything stupid. Now, let's go. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave."

Yumichika eyed him with disdain. "You're not wearing that, are you?"

"Yes, I am. It will do just fine."

There was no chance for further protest. Ikkaku ushered him out the door.

The gathering was in the village market place, one side of which was a grassy square decorated in garlands and colored lanterns.

A first glance showed that almost the entire village had come out. Spirits were high, and a sense of genial camaraderie prevailed.

Yumichika and Ikkaku passed through the crowd, Ikkaku looking for the nearest sake vendor, Yumichika greeting everyone with a demur sweetness that was in complete contrast to his self-absorbed arrogance. But this was something Ikkaku had come to expect. He had recognized months ago that Yumichika was a strange combination of contradictory impulses. There was no sense in trying to figure him out, and any attempt to do so only left Ikkaku feeling more confused and frustrated than before. It was easier to accept him with all his quirks, just as Yumichika accepted him.

"Yumichika-san, you must dance with me!" A young girl, no more than twelve or thirteen years old, suddenly emerged from the milling throng and implored with large, pleading eyes.

Yumichika smiled down at her. "Of course, I will," he consented, and allowed himself to be pulled out onto the green.

Ikkaku was relieved to see that there were many dancers, men and women and children, and that the music, once started, had a traditional aspect to it. There would be no erotic or seductive performances here.

All the dancers did the same slow, measured movements. The little girl seemed anxious to show her partner how good she was. And she was good, if a bit lacking in the grace and fluidity of the older, more experienced dancers.

Yumichika paid her every attention, gently correcting any deficiencies, and nodding his approval at the well-executed moves. And yet, somehow, he still managed to be the center of attention. His participation in the dance cast all the others in shadow. He was elegant and beautiful, and every expression that crossed his face spoke of serenity and confidence.

When the dance was over, before Yumichika could return to Ikkaku, he was approached by Hinsamoi, Youni and Yori, the orchard tender. Ikkaku watched as the four men laughed and chatted. He could not make out their words, but that didn't matter. The body language was indication enough.

Yumichika was up to his usual display of flounce and false modesty. The other three appeared to be in competition for who could command the most of his attention.

It was infuriating to Ikkaku that Yumichika would indulge such attentions – even return them.

And then it happened.

Yumichika turned his eye slowly to where Ikkaku stood and regarded him only for a few seconds but with an expression calculated as a challenge. Yumichika knew Ikkaku hated his flirtatious manner, hated his degree of intimacy with the other men in the village, hated his willful ignoring of Ikkaku's warning and demands. But here he was, flaunting his disregard and employing just the slightest bit of his seductive ability to show his defiance and egg Ikkaku on.

Maybe it shouldn't have bothered Ikkaku, but it did – greatly. For months Yumichika had comported himself in such a manner as not to provoke Ikkaku, but it seemed that such restraint had been too great a burden, or that Yumichika needed to reassert his ability to seduce and entrap. It could have been that the two of them had grown too comfortable with each other, giving Yumichika the idea that he could play the same games with Ikkaku that he played with the others. Based on their conversation the night before, it seemed that was the case.

But Ikkaku would not fall into the trap. He would not play this game. He waited until Yumichika turned away and then he left the green.

Yumichika noticed immediately that Ikkaku had left. As he stood with his three companions, he felt a brief flair of Ikkaku's riatsu and turned just in time to see the back of his retreating head. He looked back to his friends. "Will you excuse me?"

"Are you going after Madarame?" Yori asked.

"I must," Yumichika replied. "He's upset about something—"

"He's always upset about something," Hinsamoi cut him off. "He probably got angry at you for talking to us."

"That may be true, but I still can't let him go off angry," Yumichika insisted.

"If you ask me, you spend way too much time worrying about him and catering to his every whim. Every time he has a fit, you run after him," Hinsamoi went on.

Yumichika simply smiled. "I guess that's my problem." With that, he left and headed in the direction Ikkaku had taken. He figured he had gone back to the house, and upon arriving, his intuition proved him right.

Ikkaku was there, stuffing food into his sack. He did not acknowledge Yumichika's arrival.

"What are you doing?'' Yumichika asked. "Besides emptying my cupboards?"

"I'm leaving," came the terse reply.

"But you just got back yesterday," Yumichika intoned. "Why are you leaving so soon?"

Ikkaku continued filling the sack. "You love to bait me, but I'm sick of it."

Yumichika protested. "I'm not baiting you. Maybe I like to be a little playful—"

"Be playful with one of your other friends. They seem to like it," Ikkaku snapped. "I'm leaving." He threw a few pieces of the clothing Yumichika had made for him into the bag and headed for the door.

"Are you coming back?" Yumichika asked, sounding anxious.

Ikkaku was snide. "Of course, I am. I can't stay away, remember?"

As Ikkaku took his first step out the door, Yumichika spoke with perhaps more feeling than he'd ever intended to show. "I don't want you to go."

Ikkaku did not even look at him. "Remember that the next time you want to be playful." With that, he left and Yumichika was alone.

Several seconds passed during which Yumichika stood unmoving in in the middle of the room. He recalled his excitement the day before. Ikkaku's return had seemed like the end of a long drought, even though he had been gone less than two weeks. Yumichika had looked forward with eager anticipation to the contentious interaction that marked their relationship. He had beamed at the return of someone who made only the simplest of demands.

Now, that someone had taken off in anger, and Yumichika, despite his own self-assurances, was not convinced he would return this time. That thought felt like a stone around his neck, and he could not abide it. He cared enough about Ikkaku to try to stop him, to acquiesce and admit his own wrong-doing. He hurried out the door, but as he crossed the garden, it was not Ikkaku he encountered but Hinsamoi.

"Hinsamoi-san." Yumichika tried to hide his impatience. "You came away from the festival for me?"

"I came to talk to you," Hinsamoi replied, and his manner was serious. "Where were you going?"

Yumichika hesitated, then told the truth. "I was going to look for Madarame-san. He left, and I—well, it was my own fault."

"Let him go," Hinsamoi stated bluntly. "If he doesn't recognize what a good thing he's got here, then let him go."

Yumichika shook his head. "I can't. I did something I knew he wouldn't like, and I have to apologize." He started to usher Hinsamoi towards the entrance into the alley, but Hinsamoi took firm hold of his arm.

"Let him go, Yumichika-san," he insisted in a voice that was without humor or compromise. "He'll be back. I guarantee it. He won't pass up what he's got here, not when he's getting it all for free."

Something about Hinsamoi's words made Yumichika angry, and although he maintained his calm, gentle demeanor, his words were less than kind. "You've never passed it up. Why should Ikkaku be any different from you?"

Hinsamoi's arm shot out, and before either he or Yumichika realized what was happening, he struck Yumichika across the face.

Yumichika raised a hand to his cheek and felt the warmth and sting. He was too shocked for words. He'd always considered Hinsamoi to be completely safe – one of the enraptured. So, how could this have happened? He looked up at Hinsamoi, expecting to see remorse or at least surprise. Instead, he saw a gleam in the man's eye that frightened him.

"Let's go back to the festival," Hinsamoi ordered, and Yumichika did not even think of opposing him. He'd been so shaken that he could not muster the presence of mind to use his powers of persuasion.

He accompanied Hinsamoi back to the festival.

* * *

><p><em>"What the hell is the matter with him? Why did he have to act like such an idiot!"<em>

Ikkaku moved in a clipped, irritated gait along the shore road. He had felt anger with Yumichika before, but nothing to compare to this. The other foolish things Yumichika had done had been simply ignorant, but this had been calculated provocation. It was inconceivable. They had been getting along very well, to the point where Ikkaku had been willing to admit to himself that he had actually grown fond of Yumichika, despite his own best efforts to remain aloof, and despite Yumichika's silly games. Ikkaku could easily say it had been the happiest year of his life since coming to Soul Society – perhaps the happiest ever.

And then Yumichika had to go and do something so stupid, so self-centered, that it effectively undid all the joy of the past twelve months. The attempt to get a rise out of Ikkaku had been bad in and of itself, but even worse was that it showed Ikkaku what Yumichika really thought of him. Yumichika apparently considered Ikkaku to be just another one of the many admirers who could not resist his allure, and he had mocked their relationship for nothing more than the thrill of the tease.

"Madarame-san?"

Ikkaku looked to his left and saw Kaekae coming down the pier.

"Ya na'at the festival?" the boatman asked.

"I was," Ikkaku replied. "And now I'm leaving."

Kaekae smiled knowingly. "Wha'd he do this time?"

"He did something he knows I hate," Ikkaku replied, "And he flaunted it in front of me."

Kaekae raised a curious eyebrow.

Ikkaku went on. "He . . . he flirts with everyone – men and women. And it drives me crazy. He doesn't realize how dangerous it is. And how . . . how cheap it is."

Kaekae was silent.

"Do you think I'm acting like an idiot?" Ikkaku asked.

"Oh, I'm na one to say who's an idyit and who's not," Kaekae deferred. "I'm only gon' say that ya two are'n happy 'less ya fightin'. Who'd a thought ya two'd be friends, but I'm glad ya are."

"He has a strange way of treating his friends," Ikkaku glowered.

Kaekae gave a cackling laugh. "You're na one to talk."

Ikkaku could not even muster up any indignation. The old man was right. "I'm still mad at him anyway," he concluded.

"Then go on one o' ya trips," Kaekae said in a way that seemed to Ikkaku to be the permission he'd never requested or even known he'd needed. "Ya canna leave him for good."

Ikkaku was about to take offense at the repeated idea that neither he nor anyone else could withdraw themselves from Yumichika's allure. But Kaekae's next words showed him that the old man had other thoughts on the matter.

"He needs ya."

Ikkaku faltered. "Needs me? Yumichika needs nobody."

"So ya say." Kaekae shrugged but his voice and expression had a knowing inflection. "Go now."

Ikkaku started to leave, but then asked, "Why aren't you at the festival?"

Kaekae was already returning to his hutch. "Cause I hate seein' it, too."

* * *

><p>For three days, Yumichika did not venture out of his machiya. Going back to the festival that night had been mortifying enough. He had come home afterwards to discover a red mark that was slowly turning into a bruise on the side of his face. His perfect beauty had been marred, and he was sure everyone at the festival had seen it. But that was not what kept him at home. He did not want to see Hinsamoi, and if he went into the market place, it was a certainty that he would.<p>

Other than Ikkaku's mildly aggressive posturing, no one had ever laid a violent hand on him in his entire existence – not in the world of the living and not in Soul Society. He had no idea how to react to such a thing. Sequestering himself from society was something he'd grown used to in the living world, but then he'd had companionship in his isolation. His family had always been there with him. But here in Soul Society, where he'd become a social creature, avoiding contact with others did not come naturally to him. Yet, he was too distressed to venture out.

So, he kept to himself and focused on his work in an attempt to forget what had happened.

_"You can't hide forever."_

Yumichika startled.

It was the first time the voice had come to him in his waking hours.

"I—I can hear you," he replied.

_"Naturally."_

"But I'm awake. I've never heard you when I'm awake – only when I'm asleep."

_"You can hear me whenever you want to,"_ the voice replied_. "Maybe even when you don't want to."_

"But I thought—I thought you were a dream," Yumichika went on.

_"You hoped I was a dream,"_ came the gentle correction. _"But now you know I'm not."_

"Then tell me who you are," Yumichika demanded.

_"You're not ready."_

"I'm tired of you saying that. I want to know who you are. Sometimes I—I'm not even sure you're real. I think I'm just imagining you," Yumichika lamented.

"_You know I'm real. When you're ready, you will bring me forth yourself and see me for what I am."_

"Why are you here now?" Yumichika asked, frustrated with the voice's lack of cooperation.

_"You were lonely, and you wanted me—"_

"I didn't want you," Yumichika protested. "I've never wanted or asked for you. You just show up."

_"You wanted the part of me that is able to lull others into doing what you want. You call it beauty. It's much more than that. Even Madarame recognizes it,"_ the voice explained. _"You're afraid that you've lost it."_

"Madarame? You know about Madarame?" Yumichika asked. "How do you know about things outside me?"

_"Don't change the subject,"_ the voice replied. _"You're afraid now. I can feel it all through your riatsu."_

The petulance left Yumichika's manner. "I don't understand it," he admitted. "How could he hit me? I would never have thought he could do such a thing."

_"Could you not see it in his eyes?"_

Yumichika felt his spine stiffen.

_"So, you did. Then you know . . . "_ the voice went on. _"He did it because he wanted to. He believes he has the right. You are to blame for that. You don't know how to use me properly."_

Yumichika clenched his fists. "Use you? I don't even know what you are. How can I use you at all?"

_"You use me all the time, only not very well,"_ came the reply. _"I'm the most natural part of your soul."_

Yumichika was in no mood for mystery. "None of this helps me."

_"How should I help you? You don't know what you really want."_

"Do you?" Yumichika spat out.

_"Yes, of course, I do."_

"Then tell me."

_"You want everything to be as beautiful as possible, including your relationships. You're upset because things got out of your control—"_

"Out of my control? Madarame-san left after less than one day! Hinsamoi hit me, and he's been a long-time faithful customer! That's not just losing control! That's—that's . . . "

_"Wondering if you ever had control to begin with?"_

Yumichika's head drooped in exhaustion and confusion.

_"I told you – it's because you don't know how to use me properly," _the voice reiterated.

Yumichika rubbed his temples. "I'm tired of your games. I'm tired of trying to figure out what you're saying. Just tell me what you mean."

There was a bit of soft laughter_. "Tired of my games? You love to play games. You don't like this one because you're not winning."_ A pause. _"But that doesn't matter. When are you going to come out of hiding? Do you want to live in fear of that man?"_

Yumichika was not sure how to answer.

_"If you would use me in the ways I could teach you, you would have nothing to fear from him."_

At that moment, there was a knock at the door. Yumichika hesitated. Who would be coming to see him? He was not expecting anyone, and he rarely invited others to his home.

_"Are you going to answer it?"_

Suddenly, the voice inside him felt like a comfort – a safeguard, even. It made him feel less alone, less vulnerable.

He opened the door. At the sight of Hinsamoi, arms piled high with fabrics, he felt his confidence waver.

The voice was more forceful. _"Don't let him in."_

Yumichika regarded the merchant with an impassive countenance. "What can I do you for you, Hinsamoi-san?"

"You haven't been by the shop for three days," Hinsamoi replied, assuming a concerned air. "I was worried about you."

Yumichika remained equivocal. "I'm fine."

"I brought these new fabrics by," Hinsamoi went on. "I thought they would suit you."

Yumichika held out his arms. "Thank you."

"I'll bring them inside."

_"Don't let him in,"_ the voice cautioned. _"He's not here because he's sorry. He's here because he can't stay away."_

Yumichika looked at Hinsamoi's gentle, pleasant expression. This was the man he knew. It must have been an aberration the night of the festival. Yumichika still had control. He could prove it now.

"You can set them down over there by the cutting table," he said.

Hinsamoi did so. Yumichika looked through the top few bolts.

"These are nice," he commented.

"I thought you'd like them." Hinsamoi paused, examining Yumichika's face. "I did that to you?"

Yumichika nodded.

"I didn't think—I didn't think you were that fragile," Hinsamoi said, sounding remorseful. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it."

"Why did you?"

"Because I was angry. You made me angry, and . . . . I hate what Madarame is doing to you," Hinsamoi answered.

Yumichika looked puzzled. "What he's doing to me? What do you mean?"

"He's taking so much of your time, and he treats you very badly."

"Taking so much of my time? He's never here," Yumichika protested. "He stays for a few days then goes off to find some excitement."

"That's what I mean," Hinsamoi said. "He comes and goes as he pleases, with no thought for you. And you let him stay even though he gives you nothing."

"Hinsamoi—"

"Or _does_ he give you something?"

Yumichika recognized the change in tone and manner in the last question. It was the same as that which had preceded the episode three nights ago.

This time, he wouldn't be flippant. "He has nothing to give," he replied. "But I don't want to talk about him." His fear drove him to reach down inside and draw on his ability, despite the revulsion he now felt towards Hinsamoi. "I think I know why you got so angry. I have been neglecting our friendship. You miss me, don't you?"

Hinsamoi was taken by the subtle gleam in Yumichika's eyes – the faint wisteria glow that beckoned with the promise of pleasures known and unknown. He reached out and carefully touched the bruised cheek. "I do miss you." An odd expression crept into his features. "This bruise . . . oddly enough, it makes you even more beautiful." He paused. "Tell the truth . . . didn't you feel just a slight twinge of excitement?"

The question mortified Yumichika, but he managed to maintain his demeanor.

"I was stunned," he began, stopping when Hinsamoi drew out a spool of gold-weave thread from the fold of his garment.

The merchant saw Yumichika's eyes widen; it was so easy to entice him with beautiful things.

"Not even a pinprick of excitement?" Hinsamoi held the thread up like a lure in the palm of his hand.

"Are you asking me to make a trade?" Yumichika put forth.

"If you think the price is fair." He leaned closer. "I ordered this especially for you. I knew you would be the one to appreciate it."

"It must have cost you a great deal," Yumichika ventured.

"That's why I have to make it worth the barter," Hinsamoi stated. "You're the only one who has anything that comes close to its value."

"So, it's not an apology," Yumichika said.

"It's that," Hinsamoi replied, "And an invitation to future trades. There's a lot more where this came from. But you have to be agreeable to the conditions."

Yumichika took the thread and turned it over in his hands. "It _is_ beautiful."

Hinsamoi smiled. He'd won.

And somewhere, deep inside Yumichika, a part of him had lost.

* * *

><p>It had been a slow journey. Ikkaku had been in no hurry, so after five days of walking around the Ulandsee, he came to Paikuu. He'd chosen the city because he was confident it could quench his thirst for a fight; and with the lingering traces of anger still swirling inside him, he was desperate for a physical contest.<p>

And he knew where to find one.

He recalled precisely the route to Imakao's estate and wasted no time heading there. It was late – almost midnight – when he climbed over the wall and began searching for a way in. There was one person in particular he wanted to find, and while he had no plan where to look, he was willing to go through the whole place room by room to find him.

He resorted to the same method as last time, leaping up onto the ledges and going from window to window, looking for an opening. This time, it did not take him as long as it had the first time. The heat meant many open windows. He selected one that opened onto a small, empty room with doors at both ends. No sooner had he stepped foot on the floor, though, than a man unexpectedly entered the room.

Ikkaku recognized right away that he was a guard. This was an added bonus. Maybe he'd have to fight the entire contingent to get to the one he was looking for.

"Intruder!" the guard shouted, drawing his sword.

Ikkaku drew his sword to parry, but the blow never fell.

Behind the guard, Imakao appeared. Seeing who the intruder was, he put his hand on the guard's wrist. "Stop, Hemlei." Then to Ikkaku, "I recognize you. You were the man who came to take Ayasegawa away that time." He didn't sound worried or even concerned – merely interested and curious.

"That's right," Ikkaku replied.

"So, are you here looking for him? He's not here," Imakao said.

"I was hoping to find that skinny bastard who runs this place," Ikkaku stated, "But you'll do for now."

"I'll do?" For what, may I ask?"

"I need someone to fight," Ikkaku replied. "And I figure you and that pinprick bastard have done enough to hurt Yumichika that you both deserve whatever I feel like giving you."

Imakao turned to Hemlei. "Leave us."

"My Lord, I don't think that's a good idea."

"I'll be fine. Wait outside the door." He waited until the guard was gone, then turned with a grave manner to Ikkaku. "You mentioned Yumichika being hurt? Has something happened to him?"

"Nothing's happened to him," Ikkaku replied. "I'm talking about all the other things you've done to him. You've hurt him by making him—by making him what he is."

Imakao's easy manner returned. "And what is he?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Ikkaku shot back.

"Truly, I have no idea," Imakao replied. "Yumichika is much the same as he ever was. I didn't turn him into anything. And I would never do anything to hurt him. He brings me far too much joy."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Ikkaku seethed. "With erotic dances and—and whatever else you have in mind."

Imakao strode through the door opposite the one the guard had gone through, motioning for Ikkaku to follow. The door led into Imakao's sleeping chamber. He went over to a table in the corner where there was a decanter and some glasses. He poured himself a glass. "Sake?" he offered. Ikkaku refused.

"I have a great many things in mind," he said. "Some of them involve Ayasegawa; some don't. He's a very talented and skilled man."

"I don't like the talents you're making use of," Ikkaku said in a threatening voice.

"That is a matter better discussed between you and Ayasegawa," Imakao shrugged. "But I don't think coming here and picking a fight with me or other members of my household will do you any good."

"It'll make me feel better."

Imakao eyed him with delving perception. "Why do you need to feel better? What's happened that's upset you?"

"That's none of your business—"

"It is, if it lands you here in my private rooms, looking for a fight." He sat down comfortably on a plush chaise, as if he were doing no more than entertaining a caller. "I've known Yumichika-san for many years. I know what he's capable of, and I know what his desires are. I would venture he'd say the same about me. And . . . " He took a long sip of his liquor. "I'd venture that you haven't figured out how to deal with him, and that's why you're angry and frustrated. He can be like that – difficult and infuriating. You may think you can change him, but you'll never win." A pause. "And after a while, you won't want to win. Losing to Ayasegawa has its advantages."

Ikkaku was flabbergasted. He could not even begin to comprehend the meaning of Imakao's words.

Imakao went on. "So, you can stand here and posture, you can fight me, or you can accept the fact that Yumichika has something you need. That's the only reason a man like you would stick around. You should focus on getting as much of that something as you can while it's still available."

"A man like me? What's that supposed to mean? You don't even know me," Ikkaku sneered.

"You're angry. You're violent. You're possessive – at least you were that night. You're the complete opposite of Ayasegawa-san. Yet, you still live with him."

"How do you know I'm still with him?" Ikkaku demanded.

"Ayasegawa told me himself. Didn't you know he still conducts business here once a month? I'm rather surprised you permit it. Or are you afraid that by forbidding him, you may lose him?" Imakao asked.

Ikkaku grit his teeth. "I'm gone most of the time," he said pointedly. "I didn't know he was still coming here."

"Now, you do," Imakao said. "So, what will you do? Lock him up in his own home? He won't stand for that." He leaned back and eyed Ikkaku with an almost challenging expression. "A better question would be, why do you care what he does?"

"My reasons are my own," Ikkaku snapped.

Imakao finished his drink and stood up. "I respect that. I didn't mean for you to give me an answer. I meant that you should answer the question for yourself. Like I said: he has something you want, something you need. Try being honest with yourself." He refilled the glass. "Now, are you going to fight me or not?"

Ikkaku hung for a moment before heading for the door into the ante-chamber through which he'd entered.

"Just one more thing, Madarame-san."

The use of his name told Ikkaku it was true that Yumichika was still doing business here and that he must have mentioned his name often enough for Imakao to remember it.

"Yeah?" he said over his shoulder.

"That night you came here . . . I hated you," Imakao said. "I hated that you would trespass on my estate and try to force Ayasegawa to leave with you. But I don't hate you anymore. I know, from what Yumichika tells me, that you aren't a danger to him. You're probably a good thing for him." He paused. "But so am I. We should be friends, not enemies."

"I don't want your friendship," Ikkaku replied. "But I'm not listing you as an enemy either."

With that, he was gone.

* * *

><p>Two months later.<p>

The view from the top of the mountain was captivating. Mito Village was ideally situated. Ikkaku could not deny it. Nor could he deny that Yumichika constituted the greatest part of the village's attraction.

Two months Ikkaku had been gone. It was the longest he'd ever stayed away. He'd known since that day at Imakao's that he would return. It had only been a question of when his outrage and offended ego would quiet and heal. It had taken longer than expected, but as the days had worn on, and Ikkaku had gone from town to town, stirring up whatever commotion he could, he found that satisfaction was more elusive than ever it had been.

In days past, he would have felt exhilarated – even if only briefly – after a fight. Not so now. He felt tired, anxious and lonesome. Lonesome! It was a horrible feeling and an even more horrible thought that he could experience such weakness.

But no amount of horror could deter his slow journey back to Mito and Yumichika. Although it disgusted him, he had to acknowledge the truth that both Yumichika and Imakao had asserted. He could not stay away. If it meant he had to swallow his pride, so be it; especially this time, after he had stormed off in fury, even after Yumichika had apologized and begged him to stay. If Yumichika felt any compulsion to crow at his return, Ikkaku would let him have his gloat. It would be small price to pay for what he stood to gain.

He started down towards the village. It was early afternoon, and there were few people in the streets. Ikkaku passed them as if they didn't exist and headed directly for Yumichika's.

Going inside, he found the room empty. "Yumichika!" he called out.

There was no answer.

He went to the wash porch and opened the door only to be met with sounds of contention and anger. But there was only one voice. He raced across the porch, bursting into the tiny wall-enclosed garden behind the machiya, and there he found Yumichika, hunched over a water-filled tub, his arms elbow deep, having a violent argument with some piece of cloth or other that was not cooperating in the washing.

At the sound of someone entering, Yumichika startled and raised his head.

"Ikkaku!" The joy was so radiant in his face that Ikkaku's fears about his own pride were laid to rest instantly.

Yumichika came around the tub and, for a moment, it appeared he was going to embrace him; but he opted instead for a nod of the head. "I'm so glad you're back."

There was a strange inflection in his voice, as if he were not only glad, but relieved.

"Looks like I saved some piece of clothing from your wrath," Ikkaku quipped, strolling over to take a look in the tub.

"Oh, that doesn't matter," Yumichika said excitedly. "Come inside. Are you hungry?"

"A little bit, yeah." He was starving.

"Wonderful. I'll make you something. Come and sit down."

Ikkaku smiled inwardly. He had made the right decision to come back. Yumichika was ready to serve him like a king. He sat down among the pillows and watched as Yumichika busied himself in the cooking area. It took Ikkaku only a few seconds to notice that Yumichika, despite his enthusiasm, was moving rather stiffly.

"Why are you moving like that?" Ikkaku asked.

"Like what?" Yumichika asked.

"Like you've pulled every muscle in your body."

Yumichika chuckled. "You try standing over a wash tub for eight hours. I hate wash day. I hate it. I should just pay for a service, but I don't trust anyone."

"I'm getting sore just looking at you," Ikkaku said.

"This is nothing compared to the shape you've come home in a few times," Yumichika replied.

"Yeah, but I'm fighting men, not a kimono."

Yumichika smirked. "Do you want to try your hand at it? There's still a lot to do. You're welcome to it."

Ikkaku held up his hands. "No thanks. Besides, I don't want to deprive you of the joy you seem to derive from it."

Twenty minutes later, Yumichika had a meal on the table. But that wasn't all. He'd been waiting two months to say the only thing that had been on his mind the whole time.

"I'm sorry for what I did, Ikkaku," he said, sitting down across from him. His voice contained an earnestness that proved his sincerity. "It was stupid of me."

"It _was_ stupid," Ikkaku agreed, stuffing down a mouthful of rice. "But don't apologize, Yumichika. Just don't do it again."

"I won't," Yumichika promised.

Ikkaku had never seen him so humble.

Yumichika spoke in a tepid voice. "But will you . . . will you stay a few weeks now?"

The question came as a surprise, but Ikkaku was ready with an answer.

"Yeah. I'll stay for a while." He drew in a deep breath. "You know, I have to admit . . . I don't get it. Why do you do all these things for me? Why do you want me around? The entire village hates me. They only tolerate me because of you. You spend half your time patching me up, the other half feeding me. I treat you pretty badly. Even when we're getting along, we're arguing all the time. Why—why do—why are you-"

"I like having you around." His characteristic frankness was softened by the odd shyness in his voice.

Ikkaku was impatient. "But why? I've never done anything for you."

Yumichika was silent for a long time. He appeared reluctant, but at last, he answered, "You're the only person who's never wanted anything from me."

Ikkaku barely managed to swallow his mouthful of sake before he blurted out, "Never wanted anything? Have you been paying attention all these months? You've provided everything, and I've—I've done nothing but make demands."

"That's not true," Yumichika replied. "The only thing you ever asked me for was a cup of water. I offered everything else." A strange, somber shadow had fallen over his face, lending a forlorn aspect to his beauty.

Ikkaku was silent for a moment, then he said, "Well, I'm glad you offered, because I could never repay you."

Yumichika, seeming to grow more uncomfortable with each second, gave a clearly artificial smile, stood up, and announced, "Don't worry about it. I never asked to be repaid." Then in an attempt to abandon the subject, "You must be exhausted. I'll fix you a bath."

"Yumichika, what's wrong?" Ikkaku asked. It had been a long time since he last saw his host in such a withdrawn state. "I can tell something's bothering you. What is it?"

But Yumichika's only response was to flash the phony smile back over his shoulder and give a meaningless answer. "Nothing's wrong."

"Don't lie to me." Ikkaku's voice was serious and insistent. "If something's happened, you'd better tell me."

Yumichika sighed. He really did not want to say what was on his mind, but he also knew Ikkaku deserved to hear it. "I'm going to say this, and you're going to laugh at me," he began, "But you won't leave me alone until I tell you, so I will." A pause. "I feel like . . . you need me."

Ikkaku did not laugh, as Yumichika had feared. But he did find the statement amusing enough that he could not hide a curl of his mouth into a slight grin. "Even though, according to you, I never ask for anything?"

"Just because you don't ask doesn't mean you don't need," Yumichika replied. "I know you would never ask me for anything, so I . . . I anticipate what you need."

Now, Ikkaku chuckled and shook his head. "You are the strangest person I've ever met."

"You like to tell me that."

"Because it's true," Ikkaku said, adding in an attempt to lighten the mood, "And, uh, for the record, I make it a habit not to need anyone. But if it makes you feel better, I like to make demands of you, and I like it when you give me what I want. I mean, I'm getting shelter, food, water, clothes from you. You look after me when I take a beating. What do other people ask of you? To make clothes for them? To mend a tear here and there? And pay you for it. I haven't given you anything in return – except for my company. And that's not exactly fair payment. "

Yumichika's expression was the most serious Ikkaku had ever seen. "Believe me, it looks very different from my perspective. Let's just say I trust you."

Ikkaku raised an eyebrow. "You trust me? To do what?"

Yumichika shrugged self-consciously. "I just trust you, that's all. You would never—" He cut himself off, as if he feared giving too much away.

"Ah, come on, say it! You were about to make sense—finally—cause I haven't understood any of what you're trying to tell me right now. So, come on, tell me what it is," Ikkaku pressed. "What is it I'd never do?" Seeing the stricken look that suddenly crossed Yumichika's face, he became worried for a moment. "Yumichika?"

Yumichika's struggle showed in every part of his body. At last, he said, "You'd never make me regret being beautiful."

Ikkaku tried to disguise his surprise and puzzlement at this cryptic statement. For several seconds he sat in silence as the color rose in Yumichika's cheeks. Clearly, it had been a difficult and embarrassing admission, and Ikkaku had to tread carefully.

"You're right. I'd never do that," he said at length. He waited a few seconds to see if Yumichika would say anything else. But when he didn't, he went on. "I never thought you could regret being beautiful. You love the way you look."

Yumichika nodded slightly. "I do," he agreed, then he stood up and began clearing the plates.

"Then what's the problem?" Ikkaku pressed.

"I don't—there's no problem," Yumichika replied. "Don't listen to me. I don't know what I'm talking about. I'm tired and . . . I'm just glad you're back. I don't want to ruin it."

Ikkaku sighed. He'd actually believed he might get some useful insight into Yumichika's inner workings. He should have known better.

"I'm only letting you off the hook because I'm too tired to pursue it, and I could really use that bath right now."

"I'll go prepare it," Yumichika offered, sounding relieved as he headed towards the wash porch.

A short while later, he came back in to announce the bath was ready.

Ikkaku went onto the wash porch and began to undress before he realized he had brought nothing to wear once he had bathed.

He stepped back inside. "I forgot to get—"

Ikkaku stopped in mid-sentence.

In the dim light, he saw Yumichika changing into his night shift.

But he saw something else, as well. Yumichika's right shoulder was deeply discolored and swollen.

Yumichika had started to slide the shift on, but Ikkaku stopped him, crossing the room in three steps and taking hold of his sleeve.

"What happened? What are all these bruises?"

"Oh," Yumichika sighed with a sheepish smile. "I didn't want you to see that."

"How did you get these?" Ikkaku's voice was severe as he moved behind Yumichika for a closer look. A horrified breath escaped his lips as his eyes took in the sight of more bruises on his back. "Shit, Yumichika, what happened?"

Yumichika turned to face him. "Let's just say you were right about me: I'm not worth fighting."

"You got in a fight with someone?" Ikkaku asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

Yumichika shrugged. "I guess you could call it that."

"Who was it?" Ikkaku demanded.

"I didn't know them. They were highway bandits," Yumichika replied, pulling the shift on.

"Highway bandits?"

"I was coming home from Sendar, and I got jumped."

Ikkaku drew the shift back up and examined the bruises more closely. "When did this happen?"

"It was early last week," Yumichika replied. He pulled the garment down again and started to turn away.

But Ikkaku was not giving up. He reached out and took hold of Yumichika's arm, causing him to wince and give a muffled groan of pain.

Ikkaku let go of him immediately. "I'm sorry, Yumichika," he apologized. "But these bruises – you didn't get them all at the same time."

"Are you a doctor now?" Yumichika quipped.

"No, but I'm an expert on bruising. I've had plenty of personal experience," Ikkaku pressed. "How did you get these?"

Yumichika's expression softened. He drew closer and regarded Ikkaku with intense eyes. "Are you worried about me, Ikkaku?"

Ikkaku steeled himself. He knew the look being directed at him, and he knew his own vulnerability to it. And he was furious that Yumichika would attempt it on him at a time like this. "When I see you covered with bruises, yes, I worry."

"It was just a skirmish on the road." Yumichika's voice was dulcet, hypnotic. "It's over, and I don't want you to worry."

Ikkaku felt himself sinking under, and he was sorely tempted to continue the fall. The only thing that stopped him from giving in was the persistent image of the bruises pushing their way into the forefront of his thoughts.

He pulled himself together, turning abruptly away. "Don't do that, Yumichika," he warned. "I'm serious about this. You're lying to me. Why?"

"I'm not lying," Yumichika insisted, coming around to stand in front of him. "I was walking home from Sendar and I got jumped. Why is that so hard to believe? You've seen it happen before, so you know it's not so improbable."

"You have bruises on your shoulder and your back. There's not a mark on your face," Ikkaku said. "Why would someone attack you and only beat you up from the neck down?"

"I don't know," Yumichika replied. "Maybe it's because I went down so quickly, they didn't need to . . . " He stopped speaking as Ikkaku slowly raised his eyes and looked at him with disbelief and disgust. "I wish you wouldn't look at me like that," he stammered.

"I wish you wouldn't lie to me," Ikkaku countered. "You said you trusted me. You know, there's not much I've been able to offer you, but the one thing I can do is make sure no one ever hurts you."

Yumichika smiled in an unsuccessful attempt to disarm. "Even you can't do that if you're not here. Besides, I don't need protecting, Ikkaku. It was one time." He grinned. "But I'm touched that you want to protect me. Can we please stop talking about it now? Your bath will get cold."

Ikkaku frowned in resignation. He wasn't going to get anything more out of Yumichika, so he backed off.

But this wasn't near being over. Finally, there was something Ikkaku could do for Yumichika. He would not be deprived of it because of Yumichika's ego.

He headed for the wash porch.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Warning: Violence and sexual aggression._**

* * *

><p>Chapter 5 The Discovery<p>

"_If you need a reason to begin again, I am.  
><em>_You will find an answer at your journey's end.  
><em>_I am waiting there, my friend."_

_Remember Me, My Friend  
><em>John Lodge and Justin Hayward

* * *

><p>Two weeks passed, and Ikkaku had made good on his promise to stay.<p>

It hadn't been easy, though.

As much as Ikkaku hated the inhabitants of the village, as much as he found himself craving a physical contest, he was determined to keep his word. Yumichika had told him on the first day of their acquaintance that he should be a man of his word. He was going to show Yumichika that he could be just that.

But his hatred and impatience were not the biggest obstacles to his sense of contentment. No, it was something else altogether. It was Yumichika's peculiar behavior. Or perhaps it wasn't really peculiar, but this was the first time Ikkaku had been around long enough to notice it. He had known about Yumichika's late night meetings with customers, and he had never given it any deep thought. But now, seeing the frequency of such outings and the very late hours at which they took place, his suspicions had come roaring back.

Whenever he asked Yumichika where he was going or what he was doing, the answer was always the same.

"_Customer business. I prefer to do business at night, so I can spend the day working while the light is good."_

It was reasonable, but Ikkaku did not believe a word of it. Rather, he feared that Yumichika was up to his old tricks. Who was he dancing for? And what was he getting in return?

Shortly after the first two weeks passed, he got his answer.

The day had been a warm one for September but had cooled down considerably once the sun went down. It made for perfect sleeping weather, and yet Ikkaku was wide awake, lying in the bed, pretending to be asleep.

He knew what to expect, and Yumichika did not fail him.

"_One o'clock in the morning. Where is he going?"_

Yumichika was a master at moving without a sound, but Ikkaku had been waiting for this. Once Yumichika was out the door, he got up, threw on his kosode and followed him. He had to keep a safe distance, knowing Yumichika was sensitive to his riatsu.

He followed him out to the edge of the village and watched him cross the flatland to the edge of the sea where the hutches stretched away into the water. He watched until Yumichika disappeared among the trees and walkways, then he ventured carefully through the orchard and past the well. Now, he had only to find which one of the hutches Yumichika had gone into. While he was able to feel Yumichika's riatsu, he had to be in very close proximity to detect it; so his search at this point was strictly a case of hit-or-miss. He went from walkway to walkway, hutch to hutch, moving stealthily.

As he neared the hutch furthest from the shore, he saw a faint orangish glow seeping out from the corners of the windows, the shutters of which were lowered and obstructing the view inside.

Ikkaku moved slowly closer and climbed up the short wooden ladder to the hutch's deck. He stopped abruptly, feeling a sudden sense of dread. He could feel Yumichika's riatsu – he knew it well – but there was something different, something disturbing about it this time. He didn't know what it was – only that it was not what he usually felt from Yumichika.

He crept closer to the window and peered in through the thin opening between the window frame and the lowered shutter. The sight that met his eyes froze him in place. Inside was a single room with a brazier glowing in one corner. In the opposite corner was a futon. Yumichika stood in the center of the room, and behind him stood Hinsamoi. The merchant was gently pulling the hair back from Yumichika's face, caressing his neck and cheek.

Yumichika's expression was one Ikkaku had never seen before – a sort of dull emptiness that sat upon him like a shroud.

Hinsamoi was speaking. "What's the matter, Yumichika-kun? You don't seem to be enjoying this as much as you usually do." He turned Yumichika to face him.

"I'm sorry," Yumichika apologized. "I—I'm afraid I have other things on my mind."

"Such as?" Hinsamoi asked, placing a finger under Yumichika's chin.

After a moment's hesitation, Yumichika answered, "Ikkaku saw the bruises. He asked about them, and I had to lie. I don't like lying to him."

Hinsamoi was disgusted. "It isn't any of his business."

Yumichika was forlorn. "I just don't want to lie to him."

"So, you're asking me not to be so rough this time," Hinsamoi surmised.

In truth, that was not at all what Yumichika had been thinking, but he gave a weak smile and feigned agreement. "Yes, I guess so."

"I'll think about it." Hinsamoi pressed his lips to Yumichika's, then reached down to untie the obi at his waist. He slid the kimono from Yumichika's shoulders and ran his hands down his arms. "The bruises are beautiful. You like _that_ part of our relationship."

Yumichika was silent.

"Put your hands together," Hinsamoi said quietly.

The way Yumichika automatically crossed his wrists in front of him at waist level told Ikkaku right away that this was a routine, and he felt his disgust giving way to anger.

Hinsamoi used Yumichika's obi to bind his wrists together. Then he kissed his shoulder and moved around behind him, caressing him as he did so. When he dropped his hands below Yumichika's waist, that was as far as he got.

Ikkaku didn't care what else happened, but this—_this_ was not going to happen. Without giving a moment's thought, he smashed through the door with a cry of rage and anguish.

Both Yumichika and Hinsamoi were too stunned to even grasp what was happening before Ikkaku shoved Yumichika across the room, landing him on the floor, and grabbed Hinsamoi around the neck with both hands, driving him up against the wall.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ikkaku demanded. He didn't wait for an answer. "You'd better make peace with your God, if you have one, cause you're finished!"

Hinsamoi clawed at the hands around his throat. He tried to speak but no words would form.

"Filthy animal," Ikkaku ground out. "You can crawl through the mud, but you're not taking Yumichika with you." His grip tightened.

At that moment Yumichika, hands still bound in front of him, struggled to his feet and sprang forward, fumbling to grab Ikkaku's arm.

"Ikkaku, stop! This isn't his fault!" he shouted. "He wasn't hurting me! This is—"

But Ikkaku's anger was not for Hinsamoi alone. A glance out of the corner of his eye—the sight of Yumichika defending such an atrocious act—drove a red hot iron through his brain, and in a moment of unfettered rage, he drew back his fist and sent Yumichika flying across the room to land unconscious against the far wall.

Hinsamoi used that instant of distraction to make a break for the door, but Ikkaku was faster. He shot out an arm and grabbed the back of his kimono.

"I'm not through with you yet," he snarled, but somehow, in the act of striking Yumichika, the urge to do violence had gone out of him, and now he had more important things to do than beat this scum to a pulp. Instead, he threatened, "Don't you ever go near him again."

"This was his idea!" Hinsamoi protested in a terrified voice. "From the beginning, this was his—"

"I don't give a damn whose idea it was," Ikkaku cut him off. "Stay away from him or I'll kill you. I mean that." He thrust Hinsamoi away from him, and the merchant fled.

Ikkaku turned his attention to where Yumichika was stirring, still dazed by the blow. He retrieved the kimono off the floor then pulled Yumichika to his feet in a rough manner. He didn't even bother to loose his wrists. He hurriedly draped the kimono around Yumichika's naked body, grabbed him by the hair with one hand, by the arm with the other hand, and dragged him out of the hut.

Yumichika could barely keep his feet, Ikkaku was moving so quickly and with violent abruptness. Even in his cloudy state, Yumichika knew Ikkaku was furious, and he felt a tinge of dread at what was coming. He stumbled along beside him, unable to regain his footing. "Ikkaku, wait—stop," he pleaded, trying to recover his balance and clear his head.

Ikkaku ignored his protestations the whole way back to the machiya. In fact, he did not speak at all, for he knew that if he did, if he gave voice to the feelings he had at that moment, he would be loud enough to raise the dead; and while he thought some public humiliation might chasten Yumichika, he also feared that his verbal outrage might loosen his physical outrage. He had already struck Yumichika once; he didn't want to do it again.

The lateness of the hour meant the streets were empty, but even so, Ikkaku could sense the eyes peering out in curiosity from a few windows. After all, Yumichika's protests were drawing attention.

They came to the house, and Ikkaku pushed Yumichika inside and shut the door.

"You'd better start talking," Ikkaku demanded, barely keeping his voice under control.

Yumichika stood in the middle of the room, the kimono half-fallen off him, his wrists still bound, blood welling from a cut on his cheek, which was starting to swell and turn color. He raised his eyes and spoke in a quiet voice. "It's not a big deal, Ikkaku."

"Not a big deal? You were—you were about to—to—" Ikkaku could not find the words.

"It's just another form of barter," Yumichika shrugged.

Ikkaku stared at him, shocked scrawled across his face. "Barter? _Barter?_ You trade yourself for—" Again, he could not finish.

A small, completely inappropriate grin crossed Yumichika's face. His voice had a note of indulgent condescension in it. "You didn't honestly believe that I could afford this kind of food and those materials and all these beautiful things with just what I made from my sewing and embroidery, did you?"

Ikkaku grit his teeth. "Yes, I did. I definitely would never have thought you were doing something like what I saw back there. I thought you were dancing, not—not—"

"It's a lucrative business and a fair exchange," Yumichika went on. "It allows to me get whatever I need – food, wood, metalware, fabrics—"

"How many men?" Ikkaku interrupted.

"Five or six—maybe more," Yumichika replied with manufactured carelessness. "Some women, too."

Ikkaku was speechless.

Yumichika went on. "You know, I'm doing this for you, too – so you can have good food and clothing and—"

"Shut up!" Ikkaku shouted, the back of his hand smashing once again into Yumichika's cheek, dropping him to the floor, although this time, not unconscious.

Yumichika stayed down and did not even attempt to speak. His composure was already tenuous at this point, and even his arrogance and self-assuredness could not ward off the sense of despair that was settling over his heart.

"Don't tell me you're doing this for me!" Ikkaku raged. "I never asked you to do this! I never told you to turn yourself into a whore! You did this all on your own! You were probably doing this before I even got here! Isn't that true? Isn't it?"

"Yes," came the whispered answer.

"Is this all you think of yourself?" Ikkaku asked angrily. "You're willing to trade your body for nice things?" He turned away in disgust. "It makes me sick to even look at you right now."

A short, bitter silence followed, then Yumichika spoke in a voice that, despite all attempts to sound neutral, belied the fear beneath. "Are you going to leave?"

Ikkaku looked back over his shoulder. Yumichika still lay on the floor where he had fallen. His eyes did not meet Ikkaku's but stared without focus straight ahead. Ikkaku could see the trembling of his body. This was certainly not a side of Yumichika he was familiar with.

"Is that what you want me to do?" he asked, his voice still belligerent and seething with anger.

"No."

"Well, I don't want to stay here with someone who thinks so little of himself," Ikkaku stated, turning his back once again.

After several seconds, Yumichika spoke in a desolate voice. "What else can I do? That's what everyone wants from me. That's the _only_ thing anyone wants from a beautiful person."

_You're the only one who doesn't want anything from me. You'd never make me regret being beautiful._

Ikkaku understood now. He understood what it was that everyone had wanted, and his rage softened somewhat. He understood the desire; he had felt it himself. Yet, he had never even remotely thought about acting on it. Clearly, he was the exception to the rule. At that moment, he felt something for Yumichika that he never imagined he'd feel: pity. But even with that feeling of pity, he was not going to let this go.

"I don't know if that's true or not, but I'll tell you this: it's never going to happen again. As long as I'm around, I will never let you do such a thing again."

Yumichika raised his eyes to regard Ikkaku with tepid hope. "You won't go?"

"As long as you don't give me a reason to."

"But how will we eat? How will—"

Ikkaku could not help but be moved by the change in Yumichika's demeanor. The swagger was gone. The self-certainty had vanished. He crouched down and began to untie Yumichika's wrists, noticing now that he had split open both cheeks.

"We'll find a way," he replied. "But listen to me, Yumichika. I would rather starve to death than see you do that again. I'd rather go naked. I'd rather live in the streets. I never want to see that again."

Yumichika stared at him, unable to believe what he was hearing. No one in Soul Society had ever shown any such concern for him before.

Ikkaku went on. "You may not believe this, but you're the only person I've ever called friend." He drew Yumichika to his feet. "Now, go clean yourself up. Wash that man's stench off you."

Yumichika disappeared into the wash porch, and Ikkaku sat down wearily next to the hearth. He needed time to consider what had just happened. Never would he have suspected such a thing from Yumichika. Yumichika's arrogance alone had made such a scenario seem impossible. But now Ikkaku wondered if he'd been wrong about him all along. Yumichika's confidence had been only in his beauty—and nothing more. And he'd been willing to trade the one thing he possessed in abundance—his desirability—in order to have beautiful and plentiful things.

To Ikkaku, Yumichika's worth lay in something much greater than his beauty. The truth, incredibly enough, was that Yumichika was a caring, gentle soul. Of course, he could be thoughtless in his speech. He had a critical, sometimes biting way of speaking his opinion. He put far too great a premium on beauty over substance. But on the other hand, he was generous to a fault. He had never hesitated to help someone in need. He was normally quiet, soft-spoken and attentive. He genuinely cared for Ikkaku, and Ikkaku knew this. Now he understood why.

But how to deal with him from this point forward. That would not be easy to discern. Ikkaku had always viewed Yumichika as untouchable from an emotional standpoint, so he'd been able to be coarse with him. But tonight, he'd seen a different Yumichika—one that was frightened and confused. He would have to see how events played out in order to determine if things between them had changed. He added more coals to the brazier and waited.

After several minutes, Yumichika emerged from the wash porch, wearing his emerald dressing robe. Ikkaku had always found the robe to be an enhancement to Yumichika's beauty, but tonight it seemed only to bring out the bruises darkening Yumichika's cheeks. The cuts were both still oozing blood, which Yumichika was carefully dabbing away. He looked tired. And very young.

"Wow, I really banged you up, didn't I?" Ikkaku said, trying to sound casual, but in truth, he was so horrified by the sight that he decided then and there that he would never hurt Yumichika again – or allow anyone else to.

Yumichika gave a small grin. "A little."

"Come on and lie down then. You need some sleep. You look awful," Ikkaku ordered.

"I need the ointment—"

"I'll get it. You lie down. Don't argue with me."

Yumichika gladly acquiesced.

Ikkaku brought the ointment from its place in the cabinet. He sat cross-legged beside the futon and scooped some out with his finger. "Does it hurt?" he asked.

"Yes," came the honest reply.

"I'll be as gentle as I can," Ikkaku promised.

As Ikkaku spread the ointment gingerly over the two wounds, Yumichika lay quietly, his mind absorbed in the newness of the experience. Ikkaku's touch was one of genuine tenderness. There was no lust, no desire, no selfishness or greed in it – only pure, honest concern. And if Yumichika were not mistaken, he thought he detected a measure of affection. A wistful smile crossed his features.

"What are you smiling at?" Ikkaku asked.

"_You're_ looking after _me_," Yumichika replied. "It's usually the other way around."

"I'm not looking after you," Ikkaku corrected. "I'm taking care of you."

Yumichika considered Ikkaku's choice of words. He had been the object of desire and want – but never cared for - not in this world, at least. And he never would have expected Ikkaku to be the one who would break that cycle.

"There. These should heal pretty quickly," Ikkaku opined after applying the ointment. "It's a good thing I didn't hit you very hard."

Yumichika grinned as much as the pain would allow. "It was hard enough."

"Well, I won't do it again, but you also won't give me reason to, right?" Ikkaku eyed him seriously. "Give me your word you won't do that anymore, Yumichika."

"I won't do it anymore. I give you my word."

"Good." He paused, then asked cautiously, "Back there, Hinsamoi said that . . . that all that was your idea. Is that true?"

Yumichika hesitated.

"Yumichika? Is it true?"

"I don't want you to get angry again," Yumichika said.

"So, it is true," Ikkaku concluded.

"In the beginning, it was . . . mutual. They all had things I needed, and I had something they wanted. It worked out well for everyone. But the night of the dance, when I made you angry and you left . . . that was the first time Hinsamoi hit me. And . . . he liked it. He wanted more of it, and I—I agreed to it, because it was the only way he would do business with me," Yumichika explained. "I hated it, but I wanted . . . I wanted the things he could give me. And I knew if I didn't go along, he could stop the others from doing business with me as well."

Ikkaku absorbed his words with a sense of astonishment. "Why didn't you just use your powers of persuasion on him?"

"I tried," Yumichika replied. "But it wasn't working. It's just like you said – I couldn't control him. Something changed the night he hit me, and suddenly he had all the power, and I could do nothing but what he demanded."

"Well, I'm going to take care of that," Ikkaku stated forcefully.

"No, Ikkaku, no. I don't want any more trouble," Yumichika protested.

Ikkaku drew in a long, deep breath. "We'll see. Now, get some sleep. I'll take care of all the morning chores. You sleep as much as you need." He straightened up and began to walk away, but Yumichika's voice stopped him.

"Ikkaku?"

Ikkaku turned to face him.

"You're the only friend I've ever had, too."

It was a courageous admission, coming from someone like Yumichika, and it was spoken with such heartfelt sincerity that Ikkaku could only nod, but that was good enough for Yumichika. It was all the acknowledgment he needed. He fell asleep instantly.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 The Spirit

"_You don't even know my name.  
><em>_Time was when you would.  
><em>_Take the love you've given all away.  
><em>_Take a part of me."_

_You  
><em>John Lodge

Yumichika stood before the full-length mirror on the wash porch and examined his body. It was late the following morning, and the bruises had formed quite splendidly around both eyes, making him look as if he were wearing a mask. The gashes on his cheeks had stopped bleeding – the ointment had taken care of that; but they were still visible as wide, gaping cuts that would require careful tending to heal cleanly. His shoulders and back still looked like someone had splashed black and green and purple paint over them.

His image fascinated him, for what he saw in the reflected damage was not ugliness, but rather a sort of changed beauty. In a strange way, it was as Hinsamoi had asserted: the bruises did not detract from Yumichika's attractiveness. They changed the aspect of it. What Yumichika saw looking back at him was far from ugly. He knew ugly when he saw it, and it was not to be found in his reflection.

But unlike the image, there _was _something unpleasant and disgraceful on this side of the mirror. Deep inside his soul, he could no longer deny the evil he had been doing for so many years. He could no longer pretend that his motives had been noble, that his actions had been beneficial.

How could he have been wrong for so long? How could he have let it go on and even convinced himself that it was okay? That it was all in a day's work? Had he become that jaded or was he simply so enraptured by his own beauty that every sense of propriety had left him? He felt as if he had lost something that he wanted back, but he could not figure out what it was.

He leaned closer and stared at the image in the mirror. He knew his reflection well enough, and the wisteria violet of his own eyes looked back at him with a familiarity that was comforting. But what was it that he was seeing that so increased a beauty he had once thought unsurpassable?

Suddenly, his vision blurred. In his reflected eyes, he could detect a luminescence, a bluish-green swirl that was frightfully reminiscent of the streams of filament he had seen in the visions inside his head. He closed his eyes tightly and reopened them. The glow was still there, coming from within the eye, faint but definitely present.

"_Come."_

It was the voice beckoning.

"What's going on?' Yumichika asked, sounding both wary and somewhat frightened.

"_Come inside. I've been waiting for this."_

"Waiting for what?' Yumichika demanded.

"_Come and you'll see."_

Yumichika felt lightheaded. He could not bring himself to resist the summons, but he wasn't even sure if he was trying to resist. Whatever else the voice inside him might be, it was commanding, and it was powerful. He dropped to his knees on the tiled floor and closed his eyes.

He was in the maroon room again, surrounded by the exotic smells of incense, the glint of light against glass in the tapestries that hung in midair. All about, the gold cages twinkled and glimmered. The vines rotated silently.

Yumichika looked around him. "I don't see anything different," he said quietly.

"_You've already seen it. When you looked in the mirror, you saw a kind of beauty you'd never seen before. You could see it beneath your injury, beneath your hurt. No amount of physical damage can undo it." _After a long silence, the voice went on slowly and deliberately. _"Do you want to see the beauty that you could only glimpse in the mirror?"_

Yumichika nodded. "Yes, I do."

Around him, the air began to shimmer. The loose dimensions of the maroon room began to fragment and flitter away like leaves on an autumn wind. The glow of the vines intensified until slowly, the vines themselves broke into millions of small flower-shaped pieces. The twinkling shower of petals began to coalesce at a single point. A form began to take shape – a human body – obscured from detail by the luminescence of a multi-colored aura that engulfed it from head to foot.

Yumichika watched in amazement as arms and legs formed, covered in some sort of flowing raiment that had no distinguishable separation from the body.

When the transformation was complete, Yumichika found himself looking at a manner of beauty that surpassed anything he had ever encountered or imagined.

While none of the features were clear, for the body was still obscured by a colorful, undulating halo of light, it was clearly a man's body – tall, well-built and powerful.

Yumichika knew instinctively that he was looking at the body that owned the voice. The next moment proved him correct as the being raised a hand to examine its own existence. Yumichika could sense the power and admiration in the being's riatsu as it took in its appearance.

"At last . . . at last!" Without warning, the being soared into the still shimmering air, leaving a contrail of blue-green light in his wake. His laughter rang out like the sound of temple bells.

Yumichika watched the display from below, mesmerized by the sheer splendor and radiance of the being. He knew he was in the presence of immense power, and yet there was something carefree and blithe about what he was witnessing.

After a long half-minute, the being returned to stand face-to-face with Yumichika.

"You did this!" he proclaimed. "You brought me into being, kimi-san!"

Yumichika stared dumbfounded. "I didn't do anything."

"You desired it," the entity replied. "At last, you desired it enough to make it happen."

"What are you talking about?" Yumichika stammered.

The entity did not answer but approached him slowly, raised a hand, and caressed his cheek.

Yumichika felt an energy, a warmth that made his spine tingle and sent his whole body shuddering.

"I can touch you," the being said. "I can feel you." His voice was filled with an overwhelming joy and excitement. "Can you feel my touch?"

"Yes."

"And you can see me?"

Yumichika nodded. "But not clearly. It's like I'm looking at you . . . through stained glass."

"Yes, it's the same for me. You're not clear, but I can tell you're my master. Only you could have given me such a beautiful body."

"Master? Master! I'm not your master!" Yumichika protested.

The being lowered his hand. "I know it doesn't feel that way right now, but it's true."

"How can that be true? I don't even know what—who you are!" Yumichika burst out in frustration. "I don't get any of this!"

"Do you really not know who I am?" the being asked.

"You won't tell me! All these months I've been hearing your voice, and you won't tell me who you are! How can you expect me to know if you keep it from me?"

The being waved its hand, and a large oval-shaped silver mirror materialized before Yumichika. "Look closely."

Yumichika turned doubtfully to regard himself in the mirror. He could still see the bruises, the marred and altered beauty, and it occurred to him unexpectedly that he was looking at a beauty that did not depend upon his physical features. And if he looked closer, he could see the azure glow coming from within his eyes.

He heard the being's voice at his ear, low and rich and enticing.

"_I_ am the beauty you couldn't see before."

Yumichika turned and found himself staring directly into the being's eyes, only he could not see them clearly. They appeared like sand-blown mosaics, glinting and shifting. But they grabbed hold of Yumichika and would not let go.

"I know it's hard for you to understand," the being said. "But we have time. We have all of eternity."

"Where—where did you come from?" Yumichika stammered.

"I've always been here. You couldn't see me, because I was obscured by all the wickedness in your life," the being explained, drawing back. "At least, that's one good thing Madarame has done for you. He put an end to that disgraceful, demeaning practice that you liked to call _business_."

Again, the being reached out, this time to carefully touch his master's shoulder. He ran his hand like a feather over the bruised flesh, and it seemed to Yumichika that the experience of such contact was as new to his companion as it was to him.

"When we came to Soul Society, you were the most pure and beautiful of any soul ever created," the entity said. "I might have been biased, but it's what I truly believed."

"When _we_ came to Soul Society? What do you mean, _we_?' Yumichika asked. "I came here alone – completely alone."

"I suppose that's true in a manner of speaking," the entity acquiesced. "I only existed as a part of you then. And well, I still only exist as a part of you now. If you were to die, I would cease to exist. But back in those days, I had no separate voice, no separate thoughts, no separate being. And then you met Madarame, and all that changed."

His hands slid down Yumichika's back, as if he were performing an examination, and Yumichika realized that this being was completely and utterly fascinated with the mere idea that he was looking at the soul who had given him life.

"How—how did it change?" Yumichika asked, finding it difficult to concentrate with the feel of the being's hands on his body.

"You weren't prepared for beauty of any kind when you came to Soul Society, and you didn't know how to handle it at all," the being explained. "But you learned very quickly that you could get what you wanted by using your looks, and you were quite content with that. You didn't care how wrong it was. If you had used me the way I was intended, you wouldn't have just settled for seducing everyone and calling it a fair trade. You would have remembered what it was like to love. You used to love in the world of the living." He paused. "You haven't loved since you came here. Not even that old fisherman who's treated you better than you've treated yourself. You invited so much evil into your life here that'd you'd forgotten what it was like to have a beautiful soul." He finished his examination by touching a finger to each split cheek. "But I must give credit where it's due, and Madarame is the one who jolted you out of your complacency. Somehow, he made you care about him from the very first moment you met. That was the beginning. The beauty you had forgotten was stirred, and now here I am." He came face-to-face with him once more. "You mustn't let me be obscured again," he implored.

Yumichika could not speak. He could not even pull his thoughts together. The being's presence was overwhelming enough, but the things he had said were beyond baffling, beyond mysterious.

But if Yumichika felt he were losing control of his senses, the being seemed not to notice. He was still speaking. "And I suppose I should force myself to get used to Madarame being around more often. He does seem to care about you, after all." Then, noting his master's vacant stare, he added, "This really has been too much for you. Sometimes, I get carried away." A pause, as if he were reacting to an outside distraction. "I think it's time for you to be going back."

* * *

><p>"Yumichika? Yumichika!"<p>

Yumichika opened his eyes to see Ikkaku staring down at him with concern. He sat up slowly with Ikkaku's supporting arm.

"What happened? Did you pass out?"

How desperately he wanted to tell Ikkaku what had happened, but he knew that was out of the question.

"I—I must have," he fumbled.

"Damn it, I must have done some serious damage when I hit you," Ikkaku fretted. "Maybe we should take you to the healer's." He stopped abruptly. "What—what happened?"

Yumichika saw the way he was staring at him. "What's wrong?"

"Your face . . . "

Yumichika turned to look in the mirror. The cuts were gone. The bruises were gone. And not just on his face. Pulling back his hair, he saw that his shoulders and back were once again the color of ivory.

"Yumichika," Ikkaku said in a long breath. "What happened here? You went into the wash porch twenty minutes ago with all those bruises, and now here you are without a mark on you, and I—I find you passed out on the floor. What's going on? Do you have some special medicine or elixir that I don't know about?"

But Yumichika was barely hearing his words. His mind was recalling the feel of the being's hands on his shoulders, his back, his face. He had thought it was just a curious exploration of a novel new experience; when in fact, it had been a touch intended to heal.

"He healed me," he said under his breath, completely unaware that he was even speaking.

But Ikkaku heard the words. "Who healed you? Who was in there with you, Yumichika?" He gently took him by the shoulders. "Yumichika, listen to me!"

Yumichika regarded him with confusion in his eyes.

"Who healed you?"

"I don't know," Yumichika muttered.

"You said _he. He healed me. _Who is he?" Ikkaku demanded.

Yumichika began to waver. "I think I—I think I healed myself." With that, he sagged sideways, and Ikkaku scooped him up and took him inside to his bed.

"I'm going to go get the healer," Ikkaku said, but Yumichika stuck out a hand and took loose hold of the hem of his kosodo.

"No, Ikkaku, I'm fine. Don't go," he protested. "Just—stay here with me. I need a few hours of sleep and I'll be okay."

Ikkaku did not budge from his spot beside the bed for the next six hours, not even to go search the wash porch, for he feared that even a few seconds away from Yumichika could result in another inexplicable occurrence. As he waited, he took a close look at Yumichika's face. There wasn't even a hint of a scar. It was if the injuries had never even happened. He examined his shoulders to discover the same thing. There was nothing to indicate that Yumichika had ever been hurt. Something—someone—had perfectly repaired what had been damaged. And Ikkaku was determined to find out who and how.

Yumichika woke shortly before dinner time.

"How do you feel?" Ikkaku asked, helping him sit up.

"Starving," Yumichika replied. "I feel like I haven't eaten in days."

"I'll get you something," Ikkaku said. "But first, you've got some questions to answer."

Yumichika frowned. "I don't know if I can."

"Well, you're going to try," Ikkaku pressed.

"No, I mean I don't know if I know the answer," Yumichika replied. One thing he did know: he could not tell Ikkaku the truth. He could not explain a voice in his head, much less that voice taking on a body and healing him. Ikkaku would think he was crazy, and if it hadn't been for the proof of his restored body, Yumichika might have been inclined to agree with him.

"Tell me what you remember," Ikkaku insisted. "Because if someone managed to sneak in here, I need to know about it."

"I was looking in the mirror," Yumichika began. "And suddenly, I felt dizzy. I sat down, and the next thing I knew, you were waking me up."

Ikkaku grunted. "Don't you think you left out a few details? When I found you, you said _he healed me_. Who? Who healed you, Yumichika?"

"I don't know who it was," Yumichika replied. "I thought I was dreaming, and I saw a man. I couldn't see him clearly." So far, it was mostly true. "He touched me and then I woke up. I didn't know I was healed until I looked in the mirror. I don't know if someone really was there or not. I thought maybe—maybe I had somehow healed myself."

"Healed yourself?"'

"I know it sounds weird, but—"

"You didn't let anyone in? You didn't take some sort of potion or medicine from anyone?" Ikkaku asked.

"When? You were home watching me like a hawk all night and all morning." He paused. "I mean, I have those other abilities, so it's not impossible to think that I have this power, too, is it?"

"You could have let someone in the back—"

"Ikkaku, I didn't let anyone in. If I did, I don't remember," Yumichika said in exasperation. "But look at me. I'm healed. That's good, isn't it?"

Ikkaku hesitated. "It would seem good, but I like to know who's doing the good deed. And why."

In his head, Yumichika conjured an image of the beauty so recently discovered, and rather than the confusion he had felt earlier, a warm contentment settled over him.

"For now, let's just be grateful," he said.

Ikkaku looked doubtful. His gratefulness was questionable.

Yumichika assumed his most innocent expression. "Were you going to fix me something to eat?"

* * *

><p>From that point on, the relationship between the two men took on a very different character.<p>

Ikkaku, despite the hardness of his exterior, had shown something to Yumichika that he hadn't even been aware he was feeling. He had been forced to recognize that he _did_ care for Yumichika – more than he had realized. As much as Yumichika drove him crazy with his arrogance and his many peculiarities, the truth was that Ikkaku had grown fond of him and, dare he admit it, protective. The shock of discovering that Yumichika, so in love with his own beauty, had been willing to trade that beauty, bartering his body and its abilities, for _things_ had been so powerful that it had jolted Ikkaku out of his feigned aloofness. There was no longer any sense in pretending that Yumichika meant nothing more to him than a place to stay and food to eat. Yumichika was the only person who had ever had the patience to get to know him, to endure the coarseness, the insults, and the provocations. In short, he was the only person to tolerate Ikkaku.

For his own part, Yumichika took well to Ikkaku's increased attentions. He even took well to the loss of trading power, and consequently, the loss of purchasing power. Of course, at the beginning, he'd had such an abundance of everything that there was hardly any noticeable decrease. And any decrease would not have made a difference to Yumichika: his entire outlook on life in the Rukongai had changed. He had found someone to trust along with Kaekae, someone whose sole purpose in getting to know him was not to bed him. This one gain more than made up for any losses. And as the weeks passed, the losses became more pronounced, foremost among them, the disappearance of luxuriant food. Yumichika had already had a supply of staples on hand and some fine foods with long shelf lives. But the supply of fresh meats, vegetables and fruits reduced to a trickle, limited now to what Yumichika could pay for with the money he earned from his clothier work. In fact, Ikkaku could guess at Yumichika's former client list from the dwindling supplies in a number of areas. Yumichika knew that the extent of his "bartering" was becoming clearer to Ikkaku, and he might have been ashamed had not Ikkaku been so devoted to his protection. He had forbidden Yumichika from doing any more business with Hinsamoi, and so Yumichika now had to purchase his sewing items in one of the surrounding villages or rely on the traveling traders who made their way to the weekly market in Mito.

When it became apparent to those former customers that Yumichika was taking himself off the market at Ikkaku's insistence, the decision was not warmly received. At first, the various individuals had tried to cajole and sweet-talk Yumichika into continuing. When that didn't work, they tried guilt, followed by appeals to Yumichika's sense of his own desirability. But they could not prevail. Yumichika politely declined, saying only that he preferred to pay for his purchases the way everybody else did. This left his former clients with no recourse but to grudgingly accept the decision and brood in private. But whatever their private feelings were, publicly a coldness had descended between Yumichika and his former patrons. And while it was a coldness that went deep into the center of the merchantmen, it could only glisten around Yumichika without touching him, making him even more beautiful, and bringing into stark clarity the reality of the deprivation that the merchants were now living with. If Yumichika felt any sense of loss, it was undetectable. In fact, his joy seemed to increase, and the dwindling comforts of his situation did nothing to dampen spirits that were now more vibrant than they ever had been.

Ikkaku, on the other hand, had grown more angry, more bitter and hateful. The reality of what had been going on between Yumichika and the merchants only confirmed Ikkaku's previously held opinion on the corrupt nature of men's souls. Only Yumichika was spared his fearsome manner, and even so, not always. But Yumichika did not wilt under Ikkaku's belligerence. Ikkaku would be stern with him, but he knew it was out of protectiveness, and so he accepted it.

Ikkaku's rapport with the villagers was tenuous, and this assessment was generous. He cast his warning eye at every man, unsure if they had been one of the Yumichika's customers or not, and always hoping for a fight. But to his credit, he did as Yumichika had asked and not accosted the one man he did know was guilty – Hinsamoi. When Ikkaku did, by chance, run into him in the village, he made it clear through looks and posturing that the only reason he wasn't laid out dead was because Yumichika would not have it. On top of that, Ikkaku boldly enforced his decree that Yumichika was to go nowhere near the man.

And Yumichika had been compliant. He'd had no choice. Ikkaku had not left the village since that night, and he rarely let Yumichika out of his sight for more than a few seconds.

But a month had passed, and it was starting to wear on Yumichika's patience. As much as he appreciated Ikkaku's concern, he felt as if he were under continuous surveillance. He needed a reprieve.

The opportunity came in late October in the form of oil lamps.

Yumichika's store of oil for the lanterns had run very low. Getting refills wasn't going to be easy. There was no such thing as a traveling oil vendor, and the village's oilman – he was off-limits. The nearest vendor was in Sendar, and that was where Ikkaku was heading.

Yumichika was not. He'd admitted to having several customers in Sendar, and he feared that if they approached him while Ikkaku was there, it could lead to unpleasantness. And he convinced Ikkaku that he could make much better use of the time by working on some items that he wanted to sell the following month in Paikuu.

And even though Ikkaku was reluctant, he finally agreed to go to Sendar alone, but he made it clear he would be back before nightfall and that Yumichika was not to get up to any of his old tricks.

Yumichika assured him everything would be fine, that he could take his time. But his assurances fell on deaf ears. Ikkaku's distrust of the villagers, coupled with his newly assumed role as protector, was almost enough to make him decide against going at all, but he knew oil was a non-negotiable.

He left at noon.

Yumichika left fifteen minutes later.

It was the first time in Hinsamoi's shop since the incident. He was going there expressly against Ikkaku's wishes – demands, actually – but Yumichika had a stubborn, independent streak. And he knew Hinsamoi carried the finest fabrics in the area. Despite the piles of fabric still in his machiya, he was feeling the yearning to acquire more, to look at fine, luxurious products – even if he could no longer afford them. And he did not fear Hinsamoi as much as he disliked him, so there was nothing stopping him now that Ikkaku was out of town for a few hours.

As Yumichika entered, Hinsamoi looked up from sorting through an arrival of new fabrics. Upon seeing Yumichika, his expression was guarded and had none of its previous warmth and enthusiasm.

"Ayasegawa-san," he began formally. "I'm surprised to see you here. Does this mean Madarame is gone?"

Yumichika's smile and demeanor were as gentle as ever. "No, he's still here. He's just gone to Sendar for the next few hours."

"Does he know you're here?" Hinsamoi asked.

"No," Yumichika replied. "He'd be furious. He's forbidden me from coming here," he said, sounding light-hearted.

Hinsamoi was not interested in small talk. "So, what are you doing here?"

"I've come to buy some cloth," Yumichika replied.

Hinsamoi came around the counter. "Oh? And how do you intend to pay for it? Business as usual?" There was a snideness in his voice that bordered on insult.

"I'll pay for it just like all your other customers," Yumichika replied. "With money or goods."

Hinsamoi did not hesitate. "No deal."

Yumichika had been expecting this obstinacy on Hinsamoi's part. "Why not?" he asked.

"Because that's not the nature of our business relationship, and it never has been," Hinsamoi replied.

"You're not still angry about what happened, are you?" Yumichika asked, knowing that was precisely the case.

"I'm angry that you've allowed Madarame to ruin everything we had," Hinsamoi replied. "For years, you and I have done business that way, and it's become something more than just business. And I'm not the only one. It's how you do business with everyone. And then some stranger comes to the village and you take pity on him, and he disrupts everything! You've allowed him to ruin everything."

"Hinsamoi-san," Yumichika began. "We go back a long way. We don't have to rely on that aspect of our relationship to still be friends."

Hinsamoi shook his head and returned to behind the counter. "I don't want anything to do with you without it. And I'll tell you this: the others all feel the same way."

Yumichika frowned. "I wish you wouldn't say that."

"Go," Hinsamoi demanded. "Go, before Madarame finds out what you've been up to and decides to flex his muscle again." A pause. "And only come back if you've decided to go back to our original arrangement. And once you've figured out a way to get rid of Madarame."

And although it was not in his nature to give up so easily, the truth was Yumichika did not consider it so great a loss. He could find other suppliers for material. He'd found something of much greater worth.

He left without another word. He found much the same reception in the distiller's shop, the vegetable monger, the larder. It was clear that everyone with whom he'd ever conducted business using that form of payment shared Hinsamoi's sentiments.

He headed to the shore, and here he found Kaekae sitting on an old cask on one of the piers, repairing some nets.

"Ah, Ayasegawa-san, ya come a' visit me," the old man chirped as Yumichika drew near. His voice was filled with its usual chipper welcome. His feelings towards Yumichika had not changed. But then again, he had never had that sort of business relationship with him.

"Good morning, Kaekae," Yumichika returned the greeting. "I've come to see if you're going to shun me, too."

"Course not," Kaekae replied. "Ya fine'ly got sense in that 'ead o' yours. I ne'er liked what ya did wi' those folk."

Yumichika sat down on a cask opposite him. "I didn't get smart. Ikkaku found out and put an end to it. I'm glad he did."

"Heard 'e busted ya up a bit."

"It was the only way he could get through to me," Yumichika grinned in a self-deprecating manner.

"Ya _are_ thick-skulled," Kaekae chuckled.

"So I've been told," Yumichika admitted. He leaned his elbows onto his knees. "You know, if you continue to be kind to me, you'll probably be treated like an outcast."

Kaekae made a disparaging noise. "I a'ready am an outcast – and I wouldna have it any other way. Ya the one what likes ta be friends wi' everyone . . . and admired and all. Ne'er understood that 'bout ya. Why ya wanted the nod of people like Hinsamoi and Youni and the res' . . . I dunno."

"Well, it made it easier to do business with them," Yumichika replied. "I could barter the one thing I have in never-ending supply. And they all wanted it."

"Makes me sick just hearin' ya say it."

Yumichika hesitated. "Yeah. You know, I would have gone on like that forever if not for Ikkaku. Do you know—do you know what he told me? He said he'd rather starve or live in the street than see me do that again." He paused. "I didn't think anyone could ever feel that way about me again."

"Don' fo'get that the nex' time he makes ya angry," Kaekae advised. "The two o' ya are just as op'sit as they come, and ya know he's gon' do something that gets your hackles up. Just 'member what ya tellin' me now. Ya know he cares for real. He don' come back just for what ya can give 'im. He comes back for ya."

Never had Yumichika been so grateful for anything Kaekae had done for him before. He didn't know what he could possibly do for him in return, but he swore to himself that day that he would repay him somehow, no matter how long it took.

He started to make his way back to his machiya, pondering what Kaekae had said, and he felt at peace. He went through the orchard and sat down beneath one of the trees.

"_I want to see you,"_ he said inwardly, closing his eyes. He had become quite adept in the past month at summoning the exotic dimensions of his inner world, for he entered there often. His attachment to the beautiful being who resided there had swelled to something near infatuation; but this was treated as a welcome development by both parties. And it would be fair to say that the entity used whatever means possible to entice his master into that timeless world. So great was the pleasure they derived from looking at each other, even without the benefit of clarity, that this inner world had become as real to Yumichika as the Rukongai.

"Here I am." The being emerged from the outer darkness beyond the swathes of tapestry and the golden cages, from the space between the filaments, his raiment flowing like feathers rippling in the wind. He approached and offered a shallow bow, which was his standard greeting – a strange sign of respect that Yumichika could not fathom, since in every way that mattered, he felt like the child, the lesser of the two in wisdom, knowledge, and stature.

But the one area in which Yumichika definitely surpassed his companion was in curiosity. And now that his initial awestruck speechlessness had subsided, he was direct about fulfilling that curiosity.

"What do you do all the time that I'm not here?" he asked.

The being smoothed over his arms and their coverings like a preening bird. "I listen to your voice. I look out through your eyes . . . sometimes. I try to feel what you're feeling."

Yumichika was surprised. "Why?"

"Why? Should I not want to know about you? You are the reason for my existence. I want to know everything there is to know about you," the being replied. There was a long silence. "Don't you want to know about me?"

"Of course," Yumichika replied. "That's why I'm here."

The being seemed to consider. "I guess it's not really fair. After all, I know what you're doing when you're not here with me. But you don't know what I'm doing."

"That isn't fair," Yumichika agreed.

"For example, I know where you went today, and I think it was very stupid of you," the being said.

Yumichika froze.

"Seeing the old man was fine. He deserves that much and more," the being went on. "But why did you go see that beast? Whatever possessed you to even want to resume doing business with him? Even an honest business?"

Yumichika struggled to find the words. "I just wanted things to be okay between us. I didn't want him to hate me."

"But why?" the being demanded. "He doesn't care about you. He doesn't care if you like him or not. The only thing he ever wanted from you was your body and things you could do with it. And you heard him today . . . that's still all he wants."

"I guess I just . . . I wanted to see if we could still be friends," Yumichika said.

"You wanted to see if you could still win him over," the entity put forth. "If Madarame finds out, he'll be livid."

"I didn't say I wanted to do business with him again. I just—we've been friends a long time, and I—"

"You were never friends," the being corrected forcefully. "You were a means to an end for him."

Yumichika frowned and was silent.

The being's manner softened. "You showed him goodness today, and all he wanted was a return to the same wickedness. There is no value in being friends with such a man."

Seeing his master was still distressed, he placed a hand on his shoulder, for he knew Yumichika loved the feeling of warmth that flowed form his touch. "You were happy only moments earlier. Now you're sad because I chastised you. But you have to learn: not everyone loves goodness. You should know that better than anyone."

Yumichika lowered his eyes. "Yeah."

"Enough of this!" the being exclaimed. "Come, there are still so many dimensions of this world we have yet to discover!" He pulled Yumichika to his feet. "I never knew you had this much depth."


	7. Chapter 7

_**In this chapter, I introduce the word "reikon", which means soul in Japanese.**_

* * *

><p>Chapter 7 Temptation and Weakness<p>

_"I could live a lie for you.  
>But truth is the road I choose,<br>Knowing all I need to do is give to you."  
><em>

_Nights, Winters, Years  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p>Yumichika could not stop laughing. He lay on his back, rolling in the grass near an old, dead pear tree in the orchard. His laughter was uncontrollable, almost fitful.<p>

Ikkaku stood glaring down at him and rubbing his head gingerly. "It wasn't that funny, Yumichika."

"Y-yes, it was!" Yumichika gasped between laughs. He had been working on a kimono for himself for the past two hours, sitting beneath a neighboring tree, glancing up occasionally as Ikkaku sparred with the dead trunk. Apparently, the tree had finally had enough, because one of its dead branches broke off and fell directly on Ikkaku's head. It was testament to the thickness of Ikkaku's skull that the only damage done was to his ego.

The incident had sent a string of outraged epithets erupting from Ikkaku's mouth and thrown Yumichika into hysterics.

"I—I think the—the tree wants you to find a new—a new sparring partner," Yumichika laughed, red-faced.

A devious expression came into Ikkaku's eyes. "I think you're right," he said, reaching down and hauling Yumichika to his feet. He picked up a smaller branch that had broken off from the fallen one and threw it at Yumichika, forcing him to catch it.

"Oh-oh, wait a minute," Yumichika began, but before he could get any further, Ikkaku lunged at him with his katana, slicing horizontally at chest level.

Yumichika help up the branch and blocked the attack. Four more blows followed in rapid succession. He blocked them all, but he knew Ikkaku was being very lenient.

"I hate this!" he cried, taking a step back. He considered dropping the branch and surrendering, but he knew that would make no difference to Ikkaku.

"But I love it!" Ikkaku crowed, attacking again, driving Yumichika's back to the tree trunk. "Although the tree put up a better fight!"

Yumichika defended himself as best he could, until at last, he knew he was one blow away from going down. He had no desire to listen to Ikkaku berate his lack of ability for days on end, so he dropped down to one hand and swept his leg out to knock Ikkaku's feet out from under him.

Ikkaku slammed down on his back. The maniacal grin that spread across his face made Yumichika realize his mistake. He'd forgotten how much Ikkaku loved any sign of combativeness in him.

Yumichika backpedaled, his hands up in defeat, as Ikkaku got to his feet, leaving his sword lying on the ground.

"Uh, I—I give up," Yumichika surrendered meekly, knowing it was futile to get out of it at this point but deciding it was worth a try.

Ikkaku hunched his shoulder and leaned forward. "Oh no, you're not getting off the hook that easy." He sprang towards him.

Yumichika side-stepped and had taken less than half a dozen fleeing steps when he felt Ikkaku grab the neck of his kosode and jerk him backwards. Ikkaku spun him to the ground and dropped down on top of him. He pinned his wrists and gave a smug one-sided grin.

"You are such a pushover," he sneered.

"Are you ever going to grow tired of pushing me over?" Yumichika asked, sounding bored. "You know I can't beat you, and you know I won't learn how to fight, so what satisfaction can this possibly bring you?"

Ikkaku was not dissuaded. "I keep hoping you'll surprise me."

Yumichika gazed up at him through half-closed eyes. "You don't really want me to do this, do you? I've tried to refrain, but if you insist on attacking me . . . "

Ikkaku considered for a moment before getting to his feet. He stood above him, regarding him with a perplexed and mildly disgusted expression. "I don't get how I can still be affected by your _ability_, but someone like Hinsamoi isn't."

Yumichika continued to look at him with a dreamy expression. "Are you going to help me up?"

Ikkaku held out his hand.

Yumichika took hold and got to his feet. "You know, it's not that he's immune. It's that I'm not able to concentrate when I'm with him anymore. Ever since the day he hit me, I haven't been able to overcome him."

"If you knew how to fight, you could overcome him," Ikkaku pressed.

"Ugh!" Yumichika groaned, turning to retrieve his sewing project from the ground.

"You can moan and groan as much as you want, but if nothing else, learn how to fight just to keep me occupied. It's been at least eight months and I haven't had a single fight—"

"That's because you hardly ever leave here anymore," Yumichika interrupted.

"Cause I don't trust the people in this village, Yumichika," Ikkaku admitted. "Besides, you used to complain that I was gone too much."

"Yes," Yumichika agreed, "But like you said, it's been eight months. You need some activity, and you won't get it from me. I think—I think it'd be okay if you wanted to go away for a few days. Look, spring is almost over, and then it will be too hot to go anywhere—"

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Yes," Yumichika said with a smile. "Before you start picking real fights with me."

"I'll think about it," Ikkaku replied.

They began heading back towards the village.

As they approached the middle of the orchard, they saw Yori and two other men cutting down another dead tree.

Yori eyed them both with disgust as they passed.

Yumichika smiled kindly. "Good afternoon, Yori-san."

Yori made no response but continued to glare.

"What are you looking at?" Ikkaku challenged.

Yori scowled. "I see you don't have to keep _your_ hands off him."

Ikkaku exploded towards the man, but Yori was not going to back down. He was a stocky, well- built man with visible muscles and no fear of conflict.

The two of them grappled for only a few seconds before Yumichika grabbed Ikkaku's arm, pulling him back while the other two men looked on with interest but made no move to get involved.

"Let go, Yumichika!" Ikkaku demanded. "I'm going to kill this bastard!"

"Ikkaku, stop!" Yumichika cried, "He's just trying to make you angry! Don't let him get the better of you!"

"You said I needed a fight," Ikkaku snarled. "Here's my chance!"

"No, not here, Ikkaku," Yumichika insisted. He slid around in front of him. "He's not worth it." His voice grew quiet and his expression was soft and gentle. "Let's go home."

Ikkaku knew he was being worked on, and as much as he was inclined to fight against it, instead he gave in to Yumichika's pleas. He was starting to wonder if surrendering to Yumichika was becoming a way of life. He turned one last time to stick Yori with a hateful stare, but he said nothing. He felt Yumichika's arm slip through his own, and he allowed himself to be led away.

"You have to keep control of your temper," Yumichika chided him once they were out of earshot. "They're all still angry at what happened."

Ikkaku glowered. "I can't believe you—that man had—you did business with that man."

"That's all over now," Yumichika said. "You have to let it go." A pause. "I have."

"I'll let it go when they let it go," Ikkaku replied.

Yumichika clutched tighter at Ikkaku's arm. "Who cares what they think? Nothing they say or do matters."

"They still want you," Ikkaku stated bluntly.

"Well, they can't have me," Yumichika replied. "Stop worrying about what they think or what they want. We'll just go home, and tomorrow you can go to some village or town where you can satisfy your need to fight." It never ceased to amaze Yumichika how the past year and a half had seen him grow slowly but surely more accepting of Ikkaku's penchant for fighting – as long as it wasn't in Mito. It could have been that the absence of such fighting eased the disgust Yumichika felt for the activity.

Ikkaku said nothing, but inside he was more adamant than ever. He'd seen what was in Yori's eyes. He knew what was in his heart. And with that knowledge, Ikkaku had no plans to leave Yumichika unattended again any time soon. Half a year had passed since the trip to Sendar to buy oil, and that had been nerve-wracking enough, considering he had spent the entire journey worrying about what might happen in his absence.

But now, here was Yumichika, encouraging him to go off and look for a fight!

Something did not add up.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe how beautiful I am."<p>

A smile spread over Yumichika's face at the being's words. He knew the feeling. He experienced the same thing every time he looked in the mirror – which was what his companion was doing now.

They were in the maroon room. Yumichika was lounging in the center of the enormous bed, watching as the being regarded himself from every angle in the multitude of floating mirrors.

"I have only one complaint," the being lamented. "These eyes . . . why violet? I hate this color. It looks like Wisteria. Could you not have made them azure?"

Yumichika looked at him curiously. "You can see the color of your eyes in the mirror?"

"Of course, I can. I can see myself in perfect clarity. I can see my surroundings in perfect clarity. Only you are indistinct," the being explained. Then looking back at his reflection, he sighed. "Perfect except for these eyes."

"I like violet," Yumichika replied. "That's what color my eyes are."

"Are they?" The being pulled himself away from his own reflection and stared into his master's eyes. "I can't tell."

"You—can take my word for it," Yumichika said, almost breathless. A certain trembling warmth came over him whenever the being came this close, and Yumichika had developed an insatiable desire for that feeling. And when the being touched him, it was as if the very air around them became charged with energy.

The being knew the effect he had on his master, for he experienced something very similar. While it was true that he found his own beauty captivating, it was nothing compared to the thrill he felt when looking at Yumichika. And the more he came to know him, the more time they spent together in this world, the more his fondness grew, until it could no longer be called merely fondness. He loved his master. He hoped it would not be long before he could show him his true form. The very thought filled him with excitement. He had moved very slowly, recognizing from the beginning that his master was extremely suspectible to emotion and prone to rushing into things simply because he found a situation attractive. But it had not been easy. Yumichika was so beautiful, so tempting, that the being was hard-pressed to maintain his restraint.

"You make it hard to hold back," the being said, flopping onto his back beside him.

"To hold back?" Yumichika, given his history, did not like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"

"There are so many things I want to show you," the being explained. "But I must be careful not to move too quickly. I couldn't bear it if you were injured."

"What sorts of things?" Yumichika asked.

"You will see," the being replied. "We _both_ need patience."

Yumichika propped himself up on one elbow and faced his companion. He looked at him intently, wishing he could see the wisteria of his eyes. "Is there nothing that _you_ can learn from _me_?"

"I learn from you every moment," the being replied.

Yumichika smiled. "You do?"

"Of course," came the assured answer.

"So . . . what have you learned?" Yumichika asked meekly.

A soft chuckle preceded the reply. "That you still have kindness."

"I still have kindness?" Yumichika repeated, surprised and disappointed. How dull it sounded.

"It wasn't completely destroyed by the life you were leading," the being went on. "Which means that you are stronger than I thought you were."

Yumichika did not know what to say, but that did not matter. The entity had more observations he desired to share.

"You are still naive," he stated. "Still too trusting. But that's not necessarily a bad thing. And you have a soft spot for Madarame, which I simply don't understand."

"But you said he was good for me—"

"I said it was good that he stopped you from engaging in degrading activity," the being corrected.

Yumichika sat up. "Don't you like him?"

The being shrugged. "I don't like or dislike him. He just—he's so . . . slovenly and coarse and brutal. And I . . . I guess I don't completely trust him yet."

"But he cares about me," Yumichika said defensively. "He's the first one in Soul Society to want me as a friend instead of . . . instead of . . . "

"You don't have to say it," the being replied. "But you know that's not true. The old man cared about you first."

"Kaekae," Yumichika said thoughtfully. "You're right."

"But you seem to value Madarame's attentions more than his, so there must be something else about Madarame that appeals to you. After all, for all the years you knew the old man, it was never enough to bring me into being. But the very day you met Madarame, I found my voice."

Yumichika looked into the open space beyond the tapestries, at the vines and filaments. They were the azure color his companion so desired. He wished he had a way to give him what he wanted. He returned his gazed to him. "I don't know why Ikkaku would have anything to do with you being . . . created."

The being took gentle hold of Yumichika's arm and drew him back down to lie beside him.

"Am I beautiful to you?" he asked, apparently changing the subject.

Yumichika was caught off-guard by the question, but it made him feel happy. "Yes. You're—you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

The being touched his hand and the warmth flowed through him again.

"What is it that you find beautiful about me?"

Yumichika considered. "I think . . . you're very good to me. You're peaceful and you make me . . . you make me wish I were like you."

Another stronger laugh. "Nothing about my appearance?"

"Your appearance is perfect. I only wish I could see you clearly. Will—will we ever be able to see each other without all these colors?" Yumichika asked.

"I hope so," came the reply. A long silence followed, then he asked, "Do you find Madarame beautiful?"

This made Yumichika burst into laughter. "Ikkaku? I—I never . . . he tries _not_ to be beautiful, so I guess my answer is no."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure—"

"You said I was beautiful because I was good to you," the being stated.

"Well, yes, but—" Yumichika fell suddenly silent. He understood.

"Is he good to you?" his companion asked.

Yumichika nodded. "Most of the time."

"Somehow, somewhere deep inside, you must have recognized that from the first day. Perhaps you find that goodness in him to be beautiful."

"Ikkaku wouldn't want to hear that," Yumichika replied. "He doesn't take compliments very well. And beauty doesn't mean a thing to him."

"You may be right about that. But even if beauty doesn't mean anything to him - if you found his kindness towards you to be beautiful, wouldn't you want to be good to him?"

"Of course, but I think I was good to him. I _am_ good to him."

"I see. So, you wanted to be good to him," the being posed.

"Yes."

"And the first thing you said was beautiful about me was . . . "

Now, Yumichika understood that his companion had never abandoned the topic of his coming into existence. He had merely walked Yumichika through the steps.

Yumichika finished the sentence. " . . . that you were good."

"Precisely. I am what is good in you. And that goodness is beautiful, which is why I look like this. It appears that Madarame is the one who wakened the desire in you to recover the goodness you'd lost. You wanted to be good to him."

Yumichika drew in a long, slow breath. "So . . . the image I saw in the mirror that day, when you said it was your reflection . . . you're the goodness in me?"

"Yes."

"But if you're good, how could I—you've told me many times that I wasn't using you properly. How can I misuse something that's good?"

The being gave an indulgent smile. "The allure that everyone feels towards you . . . that's a good thing. But you turned it into something lurid and sexual. The talent you have for movement, your graceful body . . . you used that for seductive dancing and worse. Even your skill with a needle and thread was put to use to barter for the debasement of your body. It became so frequent that the goodness rarely showed."

Yumichika's cheeks burned. "I can't bear to think about it," he said shamefully, lowering his eyes.

"That's a good thing. That's how you should feel. That feeling of guilt and disgust will ensure you never go back to it. And now you understand how I came into being. Your desire to be good to Madarame was selfless. You had nothing to gain from it. That was goodness. And goodness is beautiful - just like me." He paused and ran his hand up Yumichika's arm., knowing his touch was enough to dispel any unpleasant thoughts from his master's mind. "But now, put all of that out of your head. Be at peace and let me enjoy you."

* * *

><p>December came on wet and mild. The heat of the summer had foretold a gentle fall and hopefully, a gentler winter.<p>

For Ikkaku, the passage of the seasons had been exceedingly difficult. The urge to fight increased with each day, and he was starting to fear that even Yumichika would not be able to hold him back anymore.

Every time he came into contact with anyone Yumichika might have done business with, it took everything he had not to throw a punch. Actually, it took everything Yumichika had to stop him. That was the only set of circumstances under which Yumichika would use his abilities on Ikkaku – to stop him from laying someone out. And what had started out as a mere nuisance for Yumichika had grown into a veritable difficulty. He had started to feel like a prisoner in his own home. He needed the freedom to move as he desired, but he had come to dread leaving the house for fear of Ikkaku getting into a confrontation. Yet he could not bring himself to speak out against Ikkaku's protectiveness. He was too fond of Ikkaku to risk hurting his feelings – or incurring his anger.

Still, errands could not wait, and Yumichika had had enough of suppressing his own independence. Furthermore, he was not averse to necessary deception from time to time. After all, he needed to keep his home supplied, and he wanted to prevent any violent scenes. He could easily convince himself that trickery was acceptable under the circumstances. He could get his supplies, avoid putting Ikkaku into temptation's path, and spare the villagers' Ikkaku's violence all with a little carefully planned shrewdness. On the other hand, if Ikkaku caught him . . . ah well, it was a risk Yumichika was willing to take.

Ikkaku had never turned into an early riser, and that was the one time of day Yumichika could take advantage of.

It was a Tuesday morning when he got up just before dawn and slipped out while Ikkaku was still asleep. The shops would be opening shortly, and Yumichika needed wax and wicks for candles.

A man named Ahetti kept a general store just off the town square. That would be Yumichika's first stop.

When he entered the shop, he was the only customer, for it was still very early. Ahetti was nowhere to be seen. Yumichika browsed for several minutes, then rang the bell which brought the shopkeeper scurrying from the back room.

When Ahetti saw who his customer was, he could not hide his surprise.

"Ayasegawa-san . . . you're—you're very early this morning," he exclaimed, his eyes scanning the shop quickly for any sign of Madarame. "You're alone?"

"I wanted to get an early start," Yumichika replied amiably. "But Ikkaku doesn't like to get up this early."

"Well, this is . . . a pleasant surprise," Ahetti said, coming around the counter, his face lighting up. "It's been months since I've seen you alone."

Yumichika's only response was a smile. "I'm here to buy some supplies to make candles."

Ahetti regarded him with hopeful expectation. "I'm sure I have what you need." A pause. "How will you . . . be paying?"

"I have money," Yumichika replied equably.

"You know, we, uh, we could make other arrangements . . . like we used to," Ahetti suggested.

Yumichika maintained his kind demeanor. "That's okay. I'll pay like everyone else."

"I'd . . . prefer the other form of payment," Ahetti said in the tone of an inquiry.

"I don't do that anymore—"

"Is it because of Madarame?"

"Maybe a little," Yumichika replied. "But it was my decision—"

Ahetti put his hand on the small of Yumichika's back. "I'm not afraid of Madarame."

Yumichika stepped away, still maintaining his polite demeanor and recognizing Ahetti's words as a bald-faced lie. Everyone was afraid of Ikkaku. "That's good. I don't want you to be afraid of him."

"Then what's stopping you?" Ahetti pursued.

"I told you, I don't do that anymore," Yumichika replied. "I don't need to, and I don't want to."But he had no qualms about using his ability when it suited him. He reached down inside. "And you wouldn't want to force me to do something I didn't want to, would you?"

For several seconds, Ahetti indulged the gaze being directed at him. At last, he answered, "No, I wouldn't," he said at last. "I'll get the wax."

Ahetti disappeared into the back room just as Ikkaku walked in the front door.

Yumichika met him with a shocked expression. He swallowed down his anxiety and presented a calm, unworried face. "Ikkaku, I—I didn't think you'd be up this early."

"I'm not the only one with a strong riatsu," Ikkaku replied testily. "After all these months we've been together, I can feel yours now, too. And I felt its absence even through my sleep this morning. What are you doing here?"

"Buying wax for the candles," Yumichika replied.

"Why didn't you wait for me to wake up? You know I hate it when you come into town on your own," Ikkaku stated.

Yumichika gave a sigh. "I know."

"So? Why did you do it?"

"Because we needed the wax, and . . . and I can do these things on my own," Yumichika replied gently. "You worry far too much."

"I have reason to worry—"

"Not anymore," Yumichika replied. "You know I don't—"

At that moment, Ahetti came out carrying a wooden box and, seeing Ikkaku, hesitated.

Ikkaku cast his omni-present glare at the merchant who set the box on the counter. "Here's your wax, Ayasegawa-san."

"Thank you, Ahetti. How much do I owe you?" Yumichika asked.

Wary of Ikkaku's presence, Ahetti replied, "Nothing. It's . . . on me."

Ikkaku felt the blood pounding in his veins. He took a step forward. "Why aren't you charging him?"

Ahetti, despite his earlier assertion of not being afraid of Madarame, stumbled for an answer. "I—I still owed him for last time—"

"Owed him for what?" Ikkaku demanded, clenching his fists at his sides.

Yumichika stepped in front of him and put his hands against his arms, driving him back a few paces. "Ikkaku . . . no." It was time to draw on his skill.

Ikkaku struggled with himself for several seconds, then said, "Pay him whatever that stuff is worth." He snatched the box from the counter and went outside to wait.

After he had left, Yumichika turned once more to Ahetti. "How much do I owe you?"

"One copper," Ahetti replied.

Yumichika paid him, but as he turned towards the door, Ahetti called after him.

"And . . . don't come back anymore. I don't want that man following you and coming into my shop anymore."

Yumichika nodded. "I understand."

Outside, Ikkaku was waiting for him. They had only gone a few steps before Ikkaku asked, "Was he one of them?"

Yumichika frowned. "Yes."

"And just now—"

"No, I didn't," Yumichika cut him off.

"Then why did he—"

"Because you intimidated him, and he was afraid," Yumichika snapped, then in a calmer voice, "Ikkaku, I appreciate how protective you've been, but . . . sometimes . . . " He faltered, trying to figure out how to say what was on his mind. "You know I don't do those things anymore, so isn't it okay if I go out alone from time to time?"

"It's not you I don't trust, Yumichika," Ikkaku replied.

"Apparently, it is," Yumichika said, "Or else you wouldn't have just asked me if I'd done it."

Ikkaku explained, "It's like Kaekae said when I first met him – he said you weren't always too smart. You've made some bad decisions before. I'm not so sure you won't make them again."

Yumichika conceded to himself that Ikkaku's words were true, but he believed Ikkaku had other reasons for never letting him out of his sight. "You know what I think?" he posed.

"I think you're just dying for a fight, and if anyone even so much as looks at me the wrong way, there's an easy excuse."

"Well, can you blame me? It's been over a year, Yumichika. I haven't had a fight in over a year. It's making me crazy," Ikkaku replied. He lowered his voice, adding, "But there's more to it than that."

"What is it, then? Tell me. Then maybe I'd understand why you're being so overbearing," Yumichika said.

"Overbearing? I'm trying to be protective, and you're accusing me of being overbearing." Ikkaku sauntered along beside him. "You really want to know why I'm acting this way?"

"Yes, I do."

"It's because . . . I can't help but wonder if there's anyone in this village who _hasn't_ had you," Ikkaku stated, sounding perhaps a bit more snide than he'd intended.

Yumichika did not take offense. "Oh, one or two," he quipped. When Ikkaku turned to regard him sharply, he spoke truthfully, "Most of them have _not_ had me."

"But there _were_ a lot," Ikkaku insisted. "More than the five or six you originally told me."

Yumichika blanched and was silent.

"Right?" Ikkaku pressed.

Yumichika nodded at last. "There were more than five or six."

Ikkaku swallowed down his abhorrence. "Did . . . did they mean anything to you at all? Did you mean anything to them?"

Yumichika replied, "Well, yes . . . it meant business. I might have felt some affection, but I don't know if it was genuine. And I don't believe any of them felt anything for me other than . . . lust. It was all done for business." He smiled. "But those days are over. You'll see: pretty soon everyone will be just like Ahetti. They'll agree to do business with me again, but without the sex."

The way he said it so bluntly, so matter-of-factly, brought the tightness to Ikkaku's shoulders. Yumichika's glib manner was infuriating.

"Not because they want to," Ikkaku said. "It's because they have no choice."

"Of course, they have a choice. They can continue to refuse to sell to me, but they won't." Yumichika sounded very sure of himself. "They can't bear the thought of cutting me out of their lives so completely. They would rather be able to talk to and look at me than have nothing at all." He shrugged. "They've already seen that I can get all the necessities from traveling vendors or in one of the other villages. I admit, it's not as easy as it used to be, but eventually everyone will come around unless you scare them off like you just did."

Ikkaku listened in disbelief. "You honestly think that? You believe they'll all come around to your way of thinking?"

"Why not?"

"Because it's never going to happen," Ikkaku replied heatedly. "Yumichika, they hate you now. I know hatred, believe me – and it's what I see in them every time they look at you. They hate you as much as they want you."

"Are you sure the hatred isn't for you?" Yumichika challenged.

"Oh, I know it's for me, but it's for you, too."

Yumichika was not worried. "Just allow some time for my beauty to win them back over." He was referring to the beauty he'd seen in the mirror in his inner world. The beauty that was his goodness, his kindness. The secret beauty that only he and the being knew of.

But Ikkaku heard the words for what they meant on the surface, and he was adamant. "No. I don't want you doing business with them. Of any kind." He paused. "I wish you were ugly."

Yumichika startled at his words. "How—how can you say that?" he stammered, the light manner of the previous moment completely gone.

Ikkaku was stunned at Yumichika's reaction. He proceeded carefully. "Because it would make it a lot easier to keep you out of trouble."

After several seconds, Yumichika said simply, "I don't want to be ugly. Please don't ever say that again."

"You're being a little sensitive, aren't you?" Ikkaku suggested.

"Just don't say it again."

They came to the machiya without another word and went inside where Ikkaku immediately sat down on the floor and took out his sword for sharpening, but Yumichika had other plans.

"Do you know how to make candles?" he asked.

Ikkaku looked up at him with narrow eyes. "No," he replied with suspicion.

"Then come here and I'll show you."

"Yumichika—"

"You need to make yourself useful," Yumichika headed off any resistance. "Now, come here and let me show you."

Ikkaku joined him in the cooking area where he was placing a heavy iron kettle over the bed of hot coals he always kept burning to a greater or lesser degree in an opening on the stove top.

"You have to heat the kettle first – always use a cast iron kettle – and when a drop of water sizzles on it, remove it from the heat . . . "

_"Oh brother,"_ Ikkaku moaned inwardly. _"This is going to be the longest, most boring lesson ever." _

"While it's heating, cut the wax into pieces . . . about this size . . . "

He watched Yumichika use a large chopping knife to cut the wax, and he could not help but notice the perfect assuredness, the precision of everything Yumichika did.

"Here, you do it now."

Ikkaku took the knife and began chopping. He wondered how Yumichika had learned this skill – not that it seemed difficult. Had he been taught by Ahetti? Had he stood at Ahetti's side, studying his every move?

"That's good, but it's not a katana," Yumichika said. "Try this way." He took Ikkaku's left hand and placed it on the dull top edge of the blade. "Make sure you keep your thumb up. Now try it."

Ikkaku looked up to see Yumichika smiling at him, then he returned his attention to his work.

Had Ahetti smiled that way at Yumichika? Had he touched his hand? Were those the first steps towards . . .

Suddenly, Ikkaku could not stop the images from flooding into his head. Images he had never even seen but that his imagination could envision: Yumichika being caressed by Ahetti, writhing and gasping beneath Yori, touching and teasing Youni. And the one image he had seen first-hand – Hinsamoi – he pushed violently aside at the same time as slamming the knife into the carving block, scattering the blocks of wax.

"I'm not going to do this!" he burst out and returned to sit on the floor with his sword.

Yumichika, utterly dumbfounded at Ikkaku's action, hesitated a moment before stooping down to pick up the fallen wax in silence. He resumed his activity without a word.

Ikkaku drew out his sharpening stone again and went to work with a purpose – to drive the images out of his mind. Why was he imagining Yumichika with those men and in graphic, excruciating detail? The more he thought about such scenarios, the more he wanted to eviscerate the men responsible.

But why? Why now? Why so suddenly? Could it be because of what Yumichika had said about resuming business with them? Even an honest business? Could there be such thing as an honest business with such men? They'd always be hoping and conniving for more. The very idea that Yumichika would even consider working with them again, after how they'd used and degraded him, filled Ikkaku with anger.

And it seemed to him that Yumichika was being inconsiderate – even thoughtless – in suggesting it. Did Yumichika have no regard for Ikkaku's feelings at all?

Ikkaku got to his feet in a rush. "I'm going for a walk," he announced abruptly.

Yumichika raised an eyebrow. Ikkaku did not _go for walks_. "Ikkaku!"

But Ikkaku was already out the door, and Yumichika figured it was best not to follow him. He would return eventually, and then maybe Yumichika could find out what was bothering him.

Ikkaku sauntered through the streets. He passed the shop where two girls did floral arrangements. They were off-limits. He passed a small mercantile that sold lotions, soap-making material and other toiletries. Off-limits. The grocery where rice and grain and sugar could be bought. The apiary. Even the village healer. Not a single one of them were permissible anymore.

It was not their inaccessibility that wore on Ikkaku's raw nerves; it was the sheer volume. And the cold indifference with which it had all transpired. Yumichika had admitted that he'd not felt anything for his customers, and they'd not felt anything for him.

_"Other than lust,"_ Ikkaku caveated.

And yet, Yumichika had given himself to them. Repeatedly. He'd wasted his beauty and his worth on them.

Ikkaku came to the well where he'd first met Yumichika. Splashes of frozen water puddled the ground. Ikkaku sat on the bench and rested his elbows on his knees.

"But all that's over now," he said out loud. "He's not lying to you about it. He's happy with the way things are. So, what are you so mad about?"

A pleasant recollection filled his head – of the first moment Yumichika had turned to face him, and he'd discovered, to his surprise, that _the woman_ at the well was actually a man.

At the time, it had merely surprised Ikkaku, but his memory enhanced the moment as the point at which he had seen what true beauty looked like. And despite the knowledge that that beauty had been begrimed by many hands, it had not suffered in Ikkaku's eyes – not one bit. With the end of Yumichika's lucrative business dealings, it had only increased.

That should have made Ikkaku happy. But it didn't. The fact that Yumichika was devoted to Ikkaku in every way should have made Ikkaku happy. But it didn't.

Ikkaku rubbed his face.

_What is it, then? What's bothering you?_

He had no answer.

* * *

><p>Yumichika was preparing dinner by the time Ikkaku returned, but if Ikkaku were expecting an inquisition or brow-beating, he received neither.<p>

Instead, Yumichika asked, "Are you hungry?" as Ikkaku set his sword down beside his sleeping mat and walked over to the brazier to warm up.

"Yeah," Ikkaku replied. "I haven't eaten all afternoon."

"Dinner's just about ready," Yumichika said.

Ikkaku stayed next to the brazier. "It's damned cold out."

"Were you outside this whole time?" Yumichika asked.

"Yeah."

"Dressed like that? You're going to get sick," Yumichika said over his shoulder.

"Maybe." Ikkaku felt ill at ease. He wished Yumichika would just come out and ask what was wrong. Maybe that would force Ikkaku to figure out what was eating at him.

"You should wrap a blanket around you," Yumichika suggested.

"I'm fine," Ikkaku deferred.

Within minutes, Yumichika had dinner on the table.

The conversation was sparse as they ate.

The meal was outstanding. Yumichika had outdone himself, but this came as no surprise. Lately, Yumichika had been so full of vigor and creativity that it only reinforced Ikkaku's worst suspicions and added to his frustration.

"Do you want any more?" Yumichika asked, standing up and taking his own plate to the basin.

"No, I'm full," Ikkaku replied.

"You seemed out-of-sorts earlier, so I made something I knew you would like," Yumichika said innocuously, returning for Ikkaku's plate.

"It was good," Ikkaku replied in a dull voice.

"Are you still angry?" Yumichika asked.

Ikkaku grimaced. "I wasn't angry."

"It seemed like it," Yumichika disagreed.

Ikkaku saw a possible opening. Maybe he could unburden himself of whatever it was that was eating away at what little peace-of-mind he possessed.

"I guess I was still . . . upset about what happened this morning," he admitted.

Yumichika was magnanimous. "You don't need to worry about that, Ikkaku—"

"You've been so happy lately, I was afraid you'd . . . I thought maybe you'd . . . " He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence, so Yumichika did so for him.

"I'd gone back to it?" A pause.

Ikkaku nodded.

"I haven't," Yumichika replied. "That's one thing you definitely don't need to worry about. How could I ever get past your watchful eye?"

"You managed it this morning – almost," Ikkaku replied.

Yumichika was glad Ikkaku had never found out about the visit he'd paid to Hinsamoi. "Almost," he agreed. "But honestly, you're worrying for no reason."

"You . . . don't miss it at all?" Ikkaku pressed carefully.

"Oh, maybe I miss the nice things I used to be able to get a little, but I wouldn't go back to it now. I told you that. You should believe me. I can't even recall those days without feeling sick to my stomach," Yumichika said as he busily cleaned up the cooking area.

Ikkaku watched him. In fact, he could not take his eyes off of him. He could see the outline of Yumichika's body beneath the emerald kimono – Ikkaku's favorite; and with every movement, he was astounded by the grace and delicacy which accompanied each action. When Yumichika turned just right, the white line of his neck against the black slate of hair flowing down his back was tantalizing. And yet, Ikkaku knew he was not using his ability to entice. These were all Ikkaku's own thoughts, brought about under his own power.

"So, there was never any pleasure in what you did?" he challenged.

When Yumichika showed the slightest hesitation, Ikkaku pounced. "So, you did enjoy it. You weren't forced into doing business that way. You did it because you liked it."

Yumichika looked at him directly. "I did it because I didn't know any better. I do now."

Ikkaku regarded him with delving eyes. "Do you?"

"Yes, and I thought we already cleared this up earlier," was all Yumichika said before turning back to the wash basin.

"_He _is_ beautiful_." Ikkaku spoke in the silence of his mind_. "He's beautiful, and they've had him in a way I never will."_ He startled at the intrusion of this unwelcome thought. His immediate instinct was to push it deep down, where it could not register in his consciousness. But that instinct was overpowered by a bitterness, bordering on anger – no, it wasn't anger. It was jealousy.

Yumichika's former clients had not cared for Yumichika; but Ikkaku did. They had given no thought to anything but their own desires; Ikkaku put Yumichika's well-being first. They had pursued Yumichika's beauty for carnal reasons; Ikkaku had never even considered it.

Until now.

_"Sick. Sick. What's wrong with you? You swore you would never hurt him. This—if he knew what was inside of you now, he'd be devastated. He trusts you. Don't break that trust," _he chastised himself.

"Shall I make some tea?"

Ikkaku muttered an affirmative.

"We're almost out. I'll have to buy some more. Sendar has its market this weekend. We should go Friday evening to get the best selections . . . "

Yumichika chattered away, but Ikkaku didn't really hear his words. He forced his gaze towards the coals glowing in the brazier and clasped his hands together. _"You would never hurt him. You know that. You only want to—to—why should they get to have him like that, but you can't? He'd understand. Just once . . . you only want to try it once."_

Yumichika's voice drew his attention out of disturbing thoughts.

"What is it, Ikkaku?"

Ikkaku's head shot up and his eyes widened slightly. Yumichika was regarding him with an expectant expression from his place by the wash basin.

"Huh?" was all he could manage, being caught off-guard.

"What's really bothering you?" Yumichika asked.

"Nothing. Nothing. Just waiting for that tea," Ikkaku stammered.

Yumichika countered, "You can't lie to me like that. You've been acting strangely all day. Your riatsu is all over the place."

Ikkaku turned crimson. Just how much could Yumichika sense? "I told you, we're too close if you can sense changes in my riatsu," he said, trying to deflect the truth of the matter.

"Then you have to learn how to control it," Yumichika replied. "So, are you going to tell me what's bugging you?"

Ikkaku gave him a long, intense look. "I can't tell you," he said at last. "You'd be disgusted with me."

Yumichika gave a small laugh. "More disgusted than I already am? That's hard to believe."

"Yumichika . . . "

Yumichika took on a slightly more serious demeanor. "I'm asking because maybe I can help."

"No, I don't think so," Ikkaku disagreed, standing up and walking over to mindlessly sift through the stacks of cloth. "It's something I need to deal with on my own. It'll pass."

Yumichika sighed. "If you insist." He returned to making the tea.

Even the finest materials in Yumichika's stock could not compete with the one thing that Ikkaku truly desired to see. Again, he found his eyes drawn to their perusal of Yumichika's body, and he grew angry with himself. But he had no time to indulge that anger, because almost immediately, Yumichika's head snapped up to catch him in the act.

"Okay, enough already," he said sternly. "You've been staring at me all night. Don't think I haven't noticed. I can sense your emotions through your riatsu. Have I done something wrong? What _is_ it, Ikkaku?"

Ikkaku drew in a steadying breath. "If I tell you, you'll hate me."

Yumichika's expression softened and he walked over to stand in front of him. "That's impossible."

Ikkaku heard the sincerity in his voice. He saw the compassion in his eyes.

"You said you would never go back to that way of life, and I believe you," he began carefully. "But it drives me crazy that—that they—they knew you in a way I never will."

Ikkaku saw and felt Yumichika's entire demeanor change; and although he could not quite identify the emergent emotions, he knew Yumichika was disturbed by the statement.

"They didn't _know_ me," he said flatly. "That wasn't _knowing_ me." He turned hurriedly and returned to the pot of boiling water. The way his hands fumbled with the tea leaves was indication enough of his discomfort.

Ikkaku followed him. Now that he had started, he needed to finish. "Then I'll put it another way. They _had_ you in a way I never will. They didn't deserve you, and it—it burns me up that they had a part of you that I can't have."

Yumichika stopped preparing the tea. A visible tremor began to show in his body, and Ikkaku could sense a moroseness, a marked deflation of joy in his riatsu.

"You _have _me. You know me in a way they never will," Yumichika said in a soft voice. "Our friendship is more than—than anything I did with them."

Ikkaku turned Yumichika towards him. "That's not what I mean," he said. "Yumichika, look at me."

Yumichika looked up slowly, and there was such pain in the violet eyes that it could not be hidden despite the impassive countenance.

"I feel like they have something that I don't," Ikkaku told him.

"And it's . . . something you want?" Yumichika asked tentatively.

So, here it was. Ikkaku had already let the cat out of the bag, but it was still possible to keep it from running amok. In front of him stood the only person he cared about, the only person who'd been able to bring some measure of contentment, however small, into his life. The one person he never wanted to injure.

Yet, he was doing just that. His own selfishness astounded him. Could he really be this thoughtless? Was it really something he wanted?

"Yes," he replied. "Once. Just once." He paused. "Will you let me?"

Yumichika was silent for so long that Ikkaku feared he would never answer, that their friendship was over. But at last, Yumichika gave a feeble nod, lowering his eyes.

There was something in that moment of submission that Ikkaku would never forget. Yumichika was showing himself willing to sacrifice his own happiness, even his sense of right and wrong in order to please Ikkaku. And he felt humbled by this display of selflessness, especially in the face of his own weakness. He had no doubt at that moment who was the better man.

He raised his hand slowly to touch Yumichika's cheek. Despite its porcelain appearance, Yumichika's skin had a man's texture. There was nothing soft or delicate in the feel of it. No, the softness had always been in the expression. Ikkaku wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it was pleasant to touch him – not erotic, not sensual, just . . . pleasant.

He leaned closer, noting Yumichika's desperate avoidance of any eye contact. When his lips came into contact with Yumichika's, he was not surprised or even disappointed by the complete lack of response. He had not expected Yumichika to be receptive, but even more amazing was the sudden abatement of his own lust. The desire had been intense, but this small gesture, this blink of an eye, sated that desire in a way Ikkaku could not account for.

He drew back.

Yumichika looked up, puzzled. "Why-why are you stopping?"

Ikkaku shook his head. "I don't know. I think—I think that's all I wanted."

"But—but I thought you wanted . . . "

"I thought so, too," Ikkaku admitted. "But I was wrong."

"I don't understand," Yumichika said. "You seemed so . . . so . . ."

"I can't explain it, either. I couldn't stop looking at you and thinking about those other men. But when it happened, I didn't want to go any further. It just wasn't right."

"So this—this wasn't something you've wanted all along?"

"No," Ikkaku replied. "It had never even entered my mind before tonight. And now I feel sick about it. I swore to myself I would never hurt you or let anyone else hurt you. But I just did." He took a step back and sighed heavily.

"You didn't hurt me," Yumichika deferred.

"Yes, I did," Ikkaku insisted. "You're not the only one who can sense emotions, Yumichika. I felt how much you were hurting, and I did it anyway."

"But you stopped," Yumichika pointed out.

"Yeah," Ikkaku puffed. "But I never should have felt that way in the first place. It's wrong, and now . . . how will be you ever be able to trust me again?"

Yumichika put a hand on his arm. "But I do trust you. It was just a mistake."

"And I don't want to make another one," Ikkaku said decisively.

"You're getting worked up over nothing—"

Ikkaku took Yumichika by the arms and fixed him with a serious gaze. "Yumichika, I saw the look in your eyes. It wasn't _nothing_."

"So, what . . . what . . ."

"I think you were right. I need to give you more space. I need to . . . I'm going to take off for a few days," Ikkaku decided.

"Take off . . . you mean you're leaving?"

"Just for a few days – to clear my head," Ikkaku replied. "I'll be back. I promise."

Yumichika believed him; and even though this was precisely what Yumichika had been suggesting, now that the moment was upon them, he wasn't quite so sure of himself. He hesitated a long time then nodded slowly. "If you feel you must."

"I think it would be best," Ikkaku said.

"When will you leave?"

"Tomorrow morning." Ikkaku was silent for several seconds. "Will you be safe?"

Yumichika nodded. "Of course, I'll be safe."

"And you won't do anything stupid?"

"I won't do anything stupid," Yumichika assured him.

Ikkaku hesitated. "Do you forgive me?"

The question brought a faint but heartfelt smile to Yumichika's face. "If you need my forgiveness, then yes . . . I do."

* * *

><p>"Kimi-san?"<p>

Yumichika smiled at the sound of the voice, followed by the light touch against his cheek.

"Reikon," he said breathlessly, before opening his eyes to see the glimmering visage gazing down at him. He had started referring to the being simply as "soul", since no name had been forth-coming; and in every way that mattered, the being was showing himself more and more begotten of his master.

"You seem both content and troubled tonight," the being noted, the soft stroke of his finger moving from cheek to jaw.

"I am," Yumichika replied, shivering with delight at the charge the being's touch sent through his body.

"Is it because he kissed you?"

Yumichika still had not grown used to the fact that this creature knew everything about him – his thoughts and desires, his comings and goings, his actions and his dreams.

"I don't know," he replied. "I wasn't happy that he wanted to kiss me, but I was happy that he stopped. On his own, he stopped."

"Yes, I know." There was a short pause and when the reikon spoke again, Yumichika thought he detected a hint of jealousy in his voice. "Why did you let him kiss you?"

The question caught Yumichika off-guard. "Why?" he repeated.

"You didn't want him to. And you didn't know that's where he would stop. Why didn't you say no? Why didn't you tell him the truth? "

Yumichika considered. "He's my friend, and I . . . I didn't want . . . "

"That had nothing to do with friendship."

The reikon was right. Yumichika opted for the truth. "I was afraid he'd leave."

"Ah, Yumichika."

Rarely did the reikon use his master's name, and when he did, it usually preceded a dressing-down of some sort.

Yumichika braced himself.

"Are you still so unsure of yourself? You could have told him no—"

"When I said no to all the others, they turned away from me," Yumichika replied.

"And is Madarame like the others?"

Yumichika drew in a deep breath and sighed. "No." He sat up.

The reikon continued. "It was wrong of him to ask you. It was wrong of him to desire it, but with your beauty, it is to be expected. Still, that is no excuse. You should not have let him do it. You should have chastised him for wanting it."

Yumichika was fretful. "But if I lose Ikkaku, I've lost everything."

"If he would leave you because you refuse him, then wouldn't it be better to see him go?" A pause. "Besides, you wouldn't lose everything."

A small grin brightened Yumichika's face. "I don't think I could lose _you_ even if I wanted to."

"And I am a far better companion than Madarame—"

"That's because you don't like him."

The being made a funny, vain flip of the strands of hair that framed both sides of his face. "It's not that I don't like him," he protested. "I just think he's not . . . refined enough for you. He's not beautiful."

"You sound jealous," Yumichika prodded with a provocative tone.

"Jealous like Madarame was?"

"No!" Yumichika retorted. "Not like that!"

Now, it was the being's turn to tease. "Good. Because if I wanted anything from you, I would be able to turn the tables and make you the one who yearns. I wouldn't have to beg you for favors. You'd be begging me."

And although the being's manner was playful, Yumichika had no doubt he was speaking the truth. He was the one with all the power. Still, Yumichika had enough pluck to push his luck. "I believe you, but . . . are you jealous?"

The being leaned closer. "No." He stood up and pulled Yumichika to his feet. "I have no reason to be." A pause. "You lead the way this time."

In this world, the constraints of gravity and exertion did not exist. Wherever Yumichika's mind directed, so did his body follow. He'd ventured out beyond the maroon room numerous times with his companion, and this was not his first time choosing the course. He liked exploring the realms of this world, and there were many.

They were diverse, and yet they all had two things in common: the shimmering vines that hung suspended in mid-air and the golden cages.

Yumichika had inquired about both early on.

His companion's answers had not been helpful.

"The vines are what I am made of. The cages – I have no idea. But they're beautiful, aren't they?"

Yumichika's attempts to coax out a better explanation were fruitless, and so he'd simply taken to admiring and not inquiring.

During one visit, the reikon had taken him to what could only be described as a shrine with a high, vaulted ceiling the shape of a boat's upturned hull, covered with stunning mosaics of peacocks and swans and other beautiful birds and foul. Where an altar normally would have stood was instead the image of tiny flower buds inlaid into the blue onyx floor.

"Why isn't there an altar?" Yumichika had asked.

"I don't know," the being had replied.

"Does anyone . . . worship here?"

"No."

"Then why is it here? What's its purpose?"

Again, the reikon was of no use in answering. "I'm not sure."

On another occasion, they had ended up at a towering cliff over a violent sea. All around was darkness with only enough light to make out the white of the waves below.

When Yumichika had taken a careful step forward, the being had gently grasped his arm.

"Be careful of the edge. If you go over, I won't be able to save you."

Yumichika looked at him. "Why not?"

"I can't go below the level of the cliff."

"How do you know?" Yumichika asked.

"I've tried. I can go out over the sea at this level, but no lower. And you can't go over the sea at all."

Yumichika was skeptical. "How do you know that?"

The reikon appeared perplexed. "I'm not sure. I just do."

Yumichika peered curiously over the edge, but again, the reikon tugged him back. "Kimi, listen to me . . . please. Don't take any chances."

Yumichika looked at him, sensing the gravity in his manner.

"You said if you lose Madarame, you lose everything. Well, if I lose you, I _really_ do lose everything, including my existence," the reikon went on. "A single wind could sweep you over the edge, and that will be the end of both of us." A pause. "Even if I were able to remain, why would I want to exist without you?"

Yumichika stepped back from the ledge. "Kimi . . . " he said softly. He'd had no idea of the depth of the reikon's devotion.

The being smiled behind the radiant halo of light. "You called me kimi. You've never called me that before."

Yumichika could sense a great delight emanating from the being, and it made him happy to know he was the cause of that joy. "It's how I feel," he said. "I never knew how much you cared about me."

The light surrounding the being burned a deep azure. "Care? My feelings go far beyond that."

Yumichika colored. He looked down in an uncharacteristically shy manner.

"Am I embarrassing you?" the reikon asked.

"No," Yumichika replied, raising his eyes slowly. "I just feel like I – I'm very lucky to have you."

"Kimi-san, you are a puzzle to me," the being said warmly.

"The feeling is mutual," Yumichika stated.

That had been months ago, and they had returned many times to the cliffs for no other reason than to sit and listen to the sounds of the ocean and the calls of unseen seabirds somewhere out in the darkness over the waves.

Now, they sailed through familiar corridors of woven filament and waving reeds that had the appearance of peacock feathers, emerging into an equally familiar open expanse of pale blue-green light, accented with the rays of glinting light bouncing off thousands – perhaps millions—of crystals and gems that hovered in the air.

As they neared the boundary of that expanse, Yumichika was faced with a decision. He had never traveled beyond that point, and now he had to decide which direction he would take.

He came to halt and hung there in the air. The being came along beside him.

"Where to?" the reikon asked.

"I'm feeling daring," Yumichika announced. "Any suggestions?"

"Everything beyond this point is still unknown to me. I haven't explored in this direction very much," the reikan replied.

Yumichika gave a nod. "Okay. Follow me." He took off straight ahead into a vague darkness that eventually narrowed into what appeared to be a tunnel with earthen walls, narrow and cool, the walls emitting a faint glow that lit the way. At last, the tunnel emerged into a large cavern, also lit by the same light emanating from the walls. Part of the cavern floor was covered by a pool of still water which reflected the ceiling in perfect symmetry. From the shadows came the sound of fluttering wings, but there was nothing to be seen of the origin.

Yumichika took in his surroundings with wonder. "It's spectacular."

The reikon walked forward to the edge of the lake. He leaned down as if to put his hand in the water, but at the last moment drew back.

"What is it?" Yumichika asked, joining him.

"I . . . I don't know," came the measured reply.

It was the first time Yumichika had heard any sign of uncertainty or wariness from the being.

"Is there something in the water?" Yumichika pressed.

"No," the reikan replied. "I can't touch it. It's like at the cliff. It repels me."

Yumichika reached down and put his fingertips in the water.

"Huh . . . I wonder why I can do it, and you can't," he said thoughtfully.

"It must be a part of you that's off-limits to me," the being said.

"Off-limits? There are parts of me that are off-limits to you?" Yumichika asked in surprise.

"These different places all represent different aspects of your soul. Surely, there are parts of you that are denied to me."

Yumichika regarded him in amazement. "Are there parts of you that are off-limits to me?"

"No," the reikon replied. "Everything I am comes from you. But not all of you is in me."

"I don't want to keep anything from you," Yumichika insisted. "I don't know what this could possibly be that you can't . . . go there."

"Oh, it doesn't matter," the being replied. "You should have those secrets that are for yourself only."

"I don't want any secrets," Yumichika protested. "I don't have any secrets."

The reikon reached out and brushed the back of his hand briefly along Yumichika's cheek. "There may be secrets that even you aren't aware of." A pause. "Let's go over to the other side. Maybe we'll find the source of all that fluttering."

He led the way over the lake up to a series of cliffs partly hidden in shadow. Alighting on top, the being spoke with a sense of glee.

"Peacocks!" he exclaimed.

Yumichika furrowed his brow. "That's funny. So much of this world is made up of peacock feathers, and my home is decorated in them."

"I don't think they're here as a supply for your aesthetic taste," the reikon mused.

Yumichika laughed. "I'm sure you're right." He paused. "Ikkaku once told me that I was proud as a peacock. He threatened to start calling me kujaku-sama."

"It would be a fitting name," the reikon grinned, holding out his hand towards the birds, which approached him readily. "Such beautiful creatures."

Yumichika looked at the iridescent light shining off the bird's feathers. It was of the same quality as that enveloping his companion.

"You have the same light they do," he stated.

"So do you," the reikon replied. "That is how you appear to me."

Yumichika held out his hand, and the birds came to him as well.

"Why do you suppose they're here?" he asked. "There hasn't been any other living thing in this world."

"No other living thing? The vines are living," the being corrected.

"They are?"

"Of course. They are the same substance that I am, and I am living."

"Oh," Yumichika said, feeling young and foolish.

"But in answer to your question, I would imagine they are here because they represent your beauty . . . and your pride," the reikon said.

"So, you think I'm proud, too?"

"You're _very_ proud," the being answered. "Do you disagree?"

Yumichika hesitated. "I guess . . . maybe I am."

"Of course, you are," the reikon persisted, but then he added, "But you are also a kind and gentle soul. That's why you're so puzzling. That's why this world is so immense. I wonder if we will ever discover every aspect of it." He turned to Yumichika. "Shall we go back? It's almost dawn. You're sleeping late."

They began the return, and as they journeyed through the various worldscapes, the being asked innocuously, "Will you be sad when Madarame leaves?"

"Maybe a little, but I know he'll come back, and it's only for a few days," Yumichika replied. "And with you around, I won't get too lonely."

"But you wish he weren't going," the reikon supposed.

"I'm not sure," Yumichika replied honestly. "The way he was feeling, maybe some time away is what he needs."

They came to the maroon room.

"Do you love him?" the being asked.

The question stunned Yumichika. "Love him? I—I—uh . . . I don't—I don't know. I know I don't love him in . . . in that way."

"In what way?" The reikon drew very close, within inches.

Yumichika thought he could almost see his true face through the swirling colors. He could not find his voice. He could not even think to speak, so overwhelming was the being's presence.

"In the way you love me?" the reikon pressed. When Yumichika gave no answer, he persisted, "Do you love me?"

Yumichika still could not speak. The reikon drew closer, almost until their lips were touching but not quite. Then he whispered, "This is the difference between Madarame and me." He backed away. "I love you enough that I would never do what he did. I can stop myself before I start."

As the reikon drew further back, Yumichika felt as if his breath were being pulled out of him. The tension of the moment left him feeling weak, but the reikon's next words sent a charge through his body.

"And you _wanted_ me to kiss you. Didn't you?"

A wave of warmth shot through Yumichika's entire body. He could not answer.

"You asked me earlier if I was jealous of Madarame," the being went on. "I wasn't jealous. I was angry. He hurt you, and he knew he was hurting you; but he did it anyway. You know what genuine love is – it would never hurt you in the first place." He paused, and seeing he would get no response, concluded, "He has the chance to make it up to you."

As the reikon made to leave, Yumichika found his voice. "Do you—do you really love me?"

The reikon turned and his voice carried undeniable conviction. "More than anything."


	8. Chapter 8

_**Warning: graphic violence of a sexual nature**_

* * *

><p>Chapter 12 The Final Barter<p>

_"Through the violence and the rage,  
><em>_By the grace of love, be still.  
><em>_And the spirit that breaks free from the cage  
><em>_Is the one they cannot kill."_

_"Children of Paradise"  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p>Three days.<p>

Ikkaku had been walking for three days. He'd not gone into any towns or villages. He'd not even stopped at any of the settlements that dotted this northern country. He'd taken his meals from the small but well-stocked satchel Yumichika had prepared for him on the morning of his departure. He'd slept in the open, far removed from civilization.

He had not chosen any specific route. His state-of-mind was such that order and purpose had no place. He hadn't searched for a confrontation. He hadn't even thought about it.

Instead, as he walked in the darkness, gazing at the distant lights that marked the existence of homesteads and villages, he found himself wondering what kind of lives the souls within were living.

Did the occupants of those dwellings feel as if they belonged there? Were they happy? Were they cared for? There was a time when Ikkaku would have envied – even despised—them for their fortuitous circumstances. He would have asked himself why he did not deserve the same joy as others.

But now, he was asking himself why had he fled just the thing he had so coveted in others? He had felt at home with Yumichika. He knew Yumichika cared for him. He'd been . . . perhaps not happy, but at least content. And that was more than he could say for any other time in his life.

Then he'd gone and done something stupid and thoughtless.

And Yumichika had forgiven him.

Finally, someone gave a damn about him – truly, genuinely valued him. At last, he knew what it felt like . . .

_"You just aren't cut out for the contemplative life, child."_

. . . to be wanted.

It was a heady sensation, but also frightening. What kind of guarantee did he have that it would last? Other events in his life – at least his life in the living world – had started off with promise.

They had all ended dismally.

He did not want his relationship with Yumichika to take the same sort of downward turn.

Yumichika, in one soul, had taken the place of everything Ikkaku had never had.

* * *

><p><em>"He's a very clever child, but he has no aptitude for a life of serenity and prayer. He—he's not at all restful. He's combative. He doesn't get along with the other novices. He just doesn't fit in here. It's not his calling."<em>

_"I'm at my wit's end! What else am I supposed to do? The boy can't come back to the house. My wife won't stand the sight of him—"_

_"Which is your own fault—"_

_"I know my mistakes. You don't need to remind me. The point is she won't have him in the house, and his mother's name can't even be spoken in her presence. What am I to do? I can't throw him into the street. He's my own flesh and blood—"_

_"When have you ever cared about that? You just don't want the townspeople to think badly of you. It's your reputation you're worried about."_

_"Not just my reputation but my entire family! My standing in this town is something I've worked a long time for. I'm not going to let one mistake ruin it."_

_"Then you will have to find someplace else for the boy. He can't stay here."_

_"I tell you . . . I wish his mother had taken my advice, and then this problem wouldn't exist."_

_"You would take an innocent life to spare your own inconvenience?"_

_"It's not a life if it's not born yet."_

_A long silence followed._

_"I think you have much greater things to worry about than your reputation, Madarame-san. Your soul is in jeopardy. Not only that, but your attitude is endangering your child's soul. I pray he does not grow up to be like you."_

* * *

><p>He would never forget it.<p>

One conversation among dozens – spoken as if he weren't even there to hear every word. Or as if he didn't understand the things being said. But he _had_ understood. Even as a small child, when many of the words were unknown to him, he'd understood the sentiments. He'd learned early on what it meant to be unwanted, and he had decided long ago that if no one wanted him, then he would beat them to the punch. He would want no one. He would repel and repulse everyone before they had a chance to reject him. There was nothing worth desiring in any human soul anyway.

He had lived that way his entire life and carried that mindset with him into Soul Society. It was little wonder to him that he had ended up in the lowest district of the Rukongai; but rather than bemoan his situation, he had relished the chance to indulge his anger and hatred, and he took it with him into every district he visited.

And then a man at a well had given him a cup of water. That same man had stood up to his temper and his belligerence, had taken him in and taught him what selflessness was. Yumichika had shown him, for the first time in his life, how it felt to be welcome, to be wanted. He'd taught him the meaning of patience, of forgiveness.

Ikkaku had not known how to react. He still didn't. It had been only the fact of Yumichika's tolerance that they had managed to stick around each other long enough to form a friendship.

Ikkaku frowned. He had almost destroyed that friendship in a moment of weakness. That realization had made him aware of just how deeply he cared for Yumichika. How could he make it up to him for the hurt he had caused?

This was the question that followed him as he journeyed further over the next several days. The northern land into which he sojourned was mountainous and green, even in winter, the lower elevations covered with pines, the upper reaches rocky and snow-covered. Some of the valleys were narrow and rocky with fast-flowing brooks running clear over fine gray pebbles; others were wide with expansive water meadows and shallow, slow-flowing streams with thin layers of ice forming at the edges.

It was, by far, the most beautiful country Ikkaku had ever seen.

Yet, it wasn't just the look of the land. There was something else. It was the feeling he got walking through the forests, following the paths of the streams, hearing the sounds of winter birds he had never heard before, somewhere deep in the blackness of the forest. The smells, the way the air felt against his skin. It was as if the landscape had its own riatsu.

Late one morning as he descended one of the mountains, he came to a broad glade where the morning dew had frozen on the grass, making the whole place look like it was covered in crystals. Yumichika immediately came to mind. This reminded him of the glade where Yumichika had come to Soul Society. He stopped and looked about him. There was a derelict, half-tumbled down ruin of a stone dwelling in one corner. He could even make out the overgrown boundaries of a small garden. It was an idyllic setting, but one Ikkaku could never accept. So far removed from any sign of civilization. So quiet. So dull.

He began walking again, finding an old, worn path on the downhill side of the glade. He had not gone far when he heard the pealing of a bell, and coming to a break in the trees, he saw below, a small village. He decided it was time to go in search of something to supplement the dwindling contents of his satchel. He quickened his pace.

Just outside the village, he met a man on the road, pushing a cart filled with square cuts of peat. As he overtook him, he was surprised when the man regarded him with a friendly grin.

"It's going to be a cold day," the man remarked.

"Feels like it," Ikkaku replied, surprised that he had no inclination towards his usual demeanor. "Let me help you with that."

"Oh, you don't have to," the man replied.

"I'd be happy to help," Ikkaku insisted.

The man relented. "That's very kind of you." They walked on a bit. "You just passing through?"

"Yeah. Just . . . roaming around, I guess," Ikkaku replied. "I live to the south, on the Ulandsee."

"Oh, nice country, that," the man nodded appreciatively. "I've only seen it once, but I still remember it like it was yesterday."

"The scenery is beautiful," Ikkaku agreed, leaving unspoken his opinion of the more unsavory aspects of the place.

"Do you live in the village?" Ikkaku asked.

"No, I live up the valley just a short way. Did you come through the valley?"

"No, I came over the mountain," Ikkaku answered.

"Ah. Well, if you had come through the valley, you'd have passed my peat farm," the man explained. "Everything's still pretty old-fashioned out here."

Ikkaku grinned. "In Mito, as well."

"Is that the name of your village?"

"It's where I live," Ikkaku replied, not completely agreeable to the idea of accepting Mito as _his_ village. It was where Yumichika lived – and that was the only reason Ikkaku stayed there.

"Well, if you're used to the old ways, then you'll find plenty to like while you're visiting," the man stated.

"Right now, I'm hoping to find some sake," Ikkaku said.

The man chuckled. "Oh, there's plenty of that – the best around. And then some."

Ikkaku regarded him askance, speaking the question with his eyes.

The man answered readily. "There's tastier spirits than wine, my friend. If you have some time, I'd be happy to show you."

* * *

><p>Yumichika held the kimono up to the candlelight and nodded once in approval. He had done a good job. The lack of glossy gold thread and the substitution of matte thread dulled the visual only minimally. It was a find piece of work, and he felt it would sell easily at the weekend market in Paikuu. With any luck, it would bring enough to buy some fresh fish for kibbeling and enough oranges to make a decent pakash, what with <em>Hali<em> on the way. Yumichika felt there should be some small indulgence allowed for the observation of a holiday. He smiled as he admired his work and hoped that Ikkaku would be back in time to see it before it sold.

Nearly two weeks had passed since Ikkaku's departure, and Yumichika admittedly was getting worried. He still believed Ikkaku had intended to return, only now he wondered if he'd run into trouble. After so many months without fighting, perhaps he had fallen out of practice and met with someone capable of defeating him. Yumichika would wait one more week before setting out to search for him.

He set the kimono aside and stretched with a yawn. It was nearly midnight. He hadn't meant to stay up so late, but he'd been inspired, and he'd not wanted to break his rhythm. And he'd also hoped that during the late hours, Ikkaku might finally return.

But he hadn't, and the work was finished. It was time to turn in. As he stood up, he heard a shuffling sound on the front porch. His immediate thought was that Ikkaku was back, injured, and struggling at the door. Yumichika never locked the door until he went to bed, so if Ikkaku were having trouble, he must be badly injured.

He was about to slide the door open, but instead it opened from the other side.

Hinsamoi stood in the door way.

Yumichika visibly startled. "Hinsamoi . . . I—I wasn't expecting you. It's so late."

"I know," Hinsamoi replied. His eyes darted quickly around the room. "Madarame is still not back?"

Yumichika felt the warmth rising in his cheeks.

"I expect him any minute," he lied.

"Do you, now?" Hinsamoi asked, clearly expecting no answer. "No one ever knows his comings or goings. He's unpredictable."

Yumichika wanted the visit to end. "I was getting ready to go to bed. Was there something you wanted?"

Hinsamoi leaned in past the doorframe. He spoke in a low, lurid voice. "You know what I want, Yumichika-san."

"Is that why you're here?" Yumichika frowned. "You know I don't do that anymore."

"Because of Madarame." It was a question and a statement.

"Partly."

"I miss you, Yumichika. We all miss you." As he spoke, he took a step forward, clearing the way for more men to step into view.

Yumichika's pulse quickened. "Why—why are you all here? I told you, I don't do that anymore."

"Until now," one of the men stated, leaning in to cast a leering gaze. "You've been carrying on this game long enough."

Yumichika did not reply but reached out to close the door. Hinsamoi and two more men lurched forward to block it. Yumichika made only a brief attempt to close the door, but it was clear he could not overpower the men on the other side. He had only one choice. He raced to the wash porch where he was met by several more men.

He turned back, but Hinsamoi and the others had already moved in behind him. They took hold of his arms and dragged him to the floor where he fought frantically, knowing full well that he could not defeat them. They were much bigger than he was and much stronger; but if he could manage to elude their grasp, he might be able to flee and outrun them.

He was too terrified to even think of calling on his abilities, and Hinsamoi noticed this right away. He planted a knee on Yumichika's stomach and knelt close. "What's wrong? Can't you use those seductive tricks of yours?"

Yumichika bucked him off balance and twisted violently, breaking loose from the men holding him down and managing to get to his feet, but he had no chance. He heard the laughter as they caught him again. They spun him from one to the next, until at last, he did something he had never done before. He clenched his fist and struck one of them across the face, knocking the man to the floor. The action surprised all of them; but while his attackers stood momentarily stunned, Yumichika one-shotted a second man and bolted for the front door. He made it outside to the garden and had his hands on the gate, but that was as far as he got.

Kaso, the oil-monger, reached an arm around Yumichika's neck and pulled him back. But this move Yumichika could defend against. He used the same move he had used on Ikkaku in the orchard, stepping back to throw Kaso off-balance, and then hurling him over his shoulder. He leapt over Kaso's sprawled body and grabbed the latch on the gate again; but this time, he felt arms wrap around his waist. He held onto the gate with all his might until two of his assailants began pounding on his arms. His left hand slipped loose under the beating, but he felt the bone snap in his right forearm.

A cry of pain burst from his lips, and he was pulled back into a maze of arms where he was held fast as he screamed for help. Hinsamoi stepped in front of him and laughed with a small shake of his head.

"You can scream as much as you want," he said. "There's no one in this village who's going to help you. They're more likely to join us."

Yumichika, shaking with pain and terror, looked back at him, unable to find his voice or even think of words to say. Nothing was going to stop them. He knew that.

"You thought you could just take yourself away from us," Hinsamoi went on. "You thought you could leave us behind for Madarame." He leaned forward, his face directly before Yumichika's. "You can't get away from us. You'll never be able to take yourself away from us." He reached his arms around Yumichika's waist and untied his obi. "You belong to us."

Yumichika jumped up, put his feet in Hinsamoi's chest and pushed him away. As he and the men holding him tumbled to the ground, he heard a voice calling to him.

_"Master! Master!"_

Yumichika scrambled to his feet. "Help me!" he called out desperately. "Help me!" He headed for the gate again, only getting a few steps before someone grabbed his ankle, and he slammed to the ground. He was pulled to his feet and the kimono torn from his body. He was punched and beaten until he could no longer support his own weight. His knees buckled and he found himself being held up only by the arms of the other men.

Hinsamoi appeared in front of him again. "Why are you even trying to fight us? You know you don't have a chance. It's time for you to pay us back for all the months you've been withholding." He paused and a dark gleam showed in his eye. "After this, you won't owe us anything."

* * *

><p>The reikon was frantic.<p>

He knew what was happening. He knew the danger his master was facing, but he could not reach him. He called out again and again, but other than his master's one cry for help, he received no response. The terror was too consuming, the pain too great. It was so powerful, it frightened even the reikon.

"Kimi . . . master, " he pleaded, "Answer me . . . please, answer me."

And still, there was no response – only the fear.

The reikon could not be sure that his master was even hearing him. "Use me . . . use me like you used to. I know I told you it was wrong, but it's the only way. Don't let them do this to you. Come to me! Come to me! Let me help you!"

His pleas went unanswered.

* * *

><p>Yumichika could not move.<p>

How long had it been going on? How many times had they assaulted him?

He didn't know how many men there were. Or whether they were using their own bodies or other implements to carry out their attacks.

He no longer cared. He had ceased to be aware of anything but the pain. The men's riotous laughter had faded into a faint echo. Their taunts and insults were incomprehensible. The entire episode felt like a terrible dream from which he could not wake up. The things they were doing to his body seemed detached and far away, but the hurt was immediate. And somewhere, in the remote corners of his mind, he could not help but chastise and berate himself for having been so wrong about the direction things had been taking. How could he have ever fooled himself into thinking that these men would ever do an honest business with him? How could he have thought they would feel anything for him but contempt?

They had been plotting the whole time, waiting for Ikkaku to depart so they could take their revenge. And it wasn't a revenge directly solely at Yumichika. It was aimed at Ikkaku as well. But it was a foolish plan, for while Yumichika could not strike back, Madarame could. With all the anger and hatred in his heart, Ikkaku would have no qualms about killing every single one of them.

"Look at me. Yumichika, look at me."

It was Hinsamoi's voice.

Yumichika focused long enough to bring the man's face into blurred view.

"This is your own fault. You know that, don't you?" Hinsamoi accused. "You made the wrong choice. And I'm going to make sure everyone knows the choice you made." He raised his hand, in which a pair of tongs held a glowing, red ember from the brazier. "Hold his head."

One of the men grabbed his jaw and started to turn his head to the side, but the sight of the ember stirred what little strength Yumichika still possessed, and he began to fight as best as his injuries would allow.

"Hold him down, you idiots!" Hinsamoi ordered, at which several more pairs of hands quickly subdued Yumichika's struggles.

A searing pain preceded the smell of burnt flesh, and Yumichika felt the bile come rushing up his throat. But his convulsions did nothing to dissuade his attackers, who snickered and jeered as they watched Hinsamoi inscribed his message first on one cheek, then the other.

When Hinsamoi finished, his audience cheered his accomplishment. He felt several cool droplets against his skin, which had grown hot and fevered with lust for the pain he was inflicting. He looked up into the sky, for they were still outside, at the bottom of the steps into Yumichika's machiya; and he could see that it was starting to rain.

It was time to conclude the night's activities. Turning to Youni, he handed him the tongs. "Bring me another ember."

As Youni went inside, Hinsamoi turned back to Yumichika and fondled him with perverse tenderness. "A final parting gift . . . to ensure you stay pure from here on." He rolled Yumichika onto his stomach just as Youni returned with the ember.

"No one else will have you now," he announced.

"Stop."

Hinsamoi looked up to see who had spoken. To his surprise, Yori stepped forward.

"You don't need to do that to him," he stated plainly. "Look at him. He's going to die, anyway. You don't need to take it that far."

Hinsamoi gave a sneering laugh. "Why are you drawing the line here? You didn't care about everything else we did to him."

"This is too far," Youni said in an even voice. "It's too grotesque."

"For you, perhaps," Hinsamoi said dismissively, then turned back to complete his task.

This time is was Bakla, the metal smith, who intervened, taking firm hold of Hinsamoi's shoulder.

"Yori's right," he said. "He'll die soon, and we've made our point."

Hinsamoi jerked away from him and stood up, tossing the ember and tongs to the ground. "If you don't have the stomach for it, then fine. I'm not going to argue with you bastards." With that, he left the garden as the rain started to come down more heavily.

Within seconds, the garden was empty.

Except for its owner.

* * *

><p>He had been searching for what seemed an eternity. In this world, where time held no sway, it might have been a lifetime. Panic had overtaken him, for he could not hear his master's voice or even sense his riatsu. Yet, he had to still be alive, or else <em>he<em> would no longer exist.

At last, he stopped his frantic search and settled down to concentrate his senses. In his mind's eye, he could see nothing. There was no sign of his master. Just as he was about to despair of ever finding him, a faint sound reached into his consciousness.

It was crying . . . his master crying. The sound drove a stab of agony into his heart. It was a sound he should never hear. He closed his eyes and followed it. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself in the cavern where the pool was.

Lying at the water's edge was Yumichika, and he was not moving.

"Master!" the reikon cried out, swooping to his side and dropping to his knee next to him. "Master! Kimi . . . kimi-san . . . "

The mosaic of light that always surrounded his master's body was dim; and looking at his injuries, the reikon could see why. Yumichika had been tortured and tormented and left to die slowly and in agony.

The most gruesome injuries were the two kanjis, one burned into each cheek.

Madarame's Whore.

They were horrific, and yet the reikan knew they were not the worst injuries by far. The greatest damage was hidden inside, only hinted at by the fluctuating patches of dark color pushing through the pale light. A terrible fear took hold of him. He did not know if he had the energy to heal such extensive damage.

He placed a gentle hand on Yumichika's broken arm, only to be met by a moan of pain and a terrified attempt to withdraw.

"Kimi . . . it's me, it's me," he said softly.

"D-don't touch me," came the feeble response, fearful and barely a whisper.

"You have to let me try to heal you," the reikon implored.

Yumichika's answer was chilling.

"Let me die."

The reikon drew back in horror. He was not about to let his master die. He would do everything he could to save him. But it pained him to see Yumichika so afflicted and to know that his best efforts may not be enough.

"You're not going to die," he said with assuredness. "I won't let you."

Amidst moans of agony, he gathered Yumichika into his arms and set off for the maroon room. During the journey, he could not stop looking down into his master's face. Even in his barely conscious state, the desolation and defeat were fully palpable; and this worried the reikon more than anything else, for if Yumichika were not willing to fight his way back, the reikon doubted that he had enough power to heal him on his own.

He could hardly believe it, but he found himself hoping and wishing for something he had never imagined he would want: Madarame's return.

* * *

><p>The sun was just above the horizon. In thirty minutes it would be dark, and it looked like the rain was going to start again at any second. Ikkaku quickened his pace. He could reach the village before nightfall if he hurried. Instead of searching for a warm, safe place to sleep, he would be in the assured comfort of Yumichika's home. Even better, Yumichika would prepare a good meal and have something clean for him to wear.<p>

A smile crossed Ikkaku's face. He'd been gone for two and a half weeks, and the time away had done him good. He'd spent most of that time in the village in the mountain valley. It was called Venla, and he'd grown very comfortable there in a short period of time –so comfortable, in fact, that he'd not once felt the need or desire to fight. That was quite an accomplishment.

He reached the outskirts of the village as the wind began to pick up, sending the people hurrying indoors. As he passed through the streets, he was met with the usual glares of hatred, but this time there was something different. There was an element of smug satisfaction that Ikkaku could not account for.

As the first drops of rain began to fall, he increased his pace, reveling in the fact that he'd be safe indoors when the full fury of the storm broke, drinking sake and listening to Yumichika's enthusiastic recounting of the events of the last two weeks.

But as he drew near the machiya, a chill fell over him. Yumichika's riatsu, which had become fairly present to Ikkaku, was absent – or not quite absent, but only barely perceptible. Ikkaku's fear escalated when he saw that the gate was open, banging in the wind.

He raced forward and coming around the edge of fence, stopped dead, unable to move for several seconds. The sight that met his eyes was something from a nightmare.

Yumichika lay face-down and naked at the bottom of the steps in front of his machiya.

"Yumichika?" he whispered. "Yumichika?" He took a few stilted steps into the garden, before breaking into a desperate run. "Yumichika!" He slid to his knees beside him. He could hear his own heart pounding in his ears as he took in the damage. Yumichika's body was covered with bruises and abrasions, certain areas swollen and distended, clear indication of what had been done to him.

"Yumichika . . . " Ikkaku's voice was strained as he gently rolled him onto his back. A gasp of horror escaped his lips, and he turned away to retch. Yumichika's face was a ghastly mask of blood, vomit, and mud-caked wounds.

The rage exploded in Ikkaku's heart. He was looking at the purposeful infliction of the most brutal beating he had ever seen – and he had seen a lot. Ikkaku wanted nothing more at that moment than to find those responsible and kill them. He didn't want a fight. He didn't want a contest. He wanted their deaths.

But he had a more urgent matter to deal with. He had to get help, for Yumichika's injuries were beyond his ability to handle. He lifted Yumichika into his arms, took him inside and laid him on the bed. Then he went back outside, oblivious to the wind and the freezing rain, and headed for the village healer, whose home was on the other side of the village.

He pounded on the door and called out, "Open up! I need help! Hurry! Open up!"

The doctor, whose name was Lukan, opened the door. He was a large, heavy man with drooping eyes and many folds of chin that gave him the look of a walrus. He displayed no sense of urgency. He did not even acknowledge Ikkaku or inquire after the emergency, but rather stood staring without speaking.

"I need help! It's Yumichika—he's—someone's beat him up and—and—" He couldn't bring himself to say it. "He needs help badly!"

The doctor was unconcerned. "I'm busy."

Ikkaku was stunned. He knew that Lukan had been one of Yumichika's patrons, but he had not imagined that would stand in the way of him fulfilling his calling and helping someone in need.

"But he—he could die, and I don't know what to do!" Ikkaku persisted. "Please, you have to come help him, please!"

"I told you I'm busy," Lukan repeated, starting to shut the door.

Ikkaku stopped him. "What about your assistant? Someone has to help! I don't know what to do!" He was as close as he'd ever been to panic.

The doctor looked at him with a coldness that seemed contrary to his profession. "My assistant is not here. Maybe you should find some friends or neighbors who can help you." He paused. "If you haven't chased them all away."

He shut the door.

For a moment, Ikkaku stood in shocked immobility on the doorstep. The doctor was refusing to help, not because he was busy, but because it was Yumichika who was the victim. The bitterness had not abated at all; it had only taken deeper root, and Ikkaku was struck with the sickening thought that Lukan might have been one of those responsible for Yumichika's current predicament.

He broke from the doorstep and ran back towards Yumichika's home, stopping from time to time to call out for help. But no one responded. It was not lost on him that he was the reason no one would help. He was the reason this whole thing had happened in the first place. He had taken Yumichika away from the men who had come to expect his services; and while he'd never believed that they had gotten over it, he had also never thought they would resort to such a despicable action.

When he got back to the machiya, he found himself at a complete loss. He stood next to the bed and rubbed his hands together nervously.

"Yumichika . . . what do I do? This is something you always took care of. I don't know what to do." He took several deep breaths and tried to calm his thoughts.

He could start by cleaning away the dirt and blood. After that, the ointment might help.

But first, he closed and locked the door, not trusting that the men who'd done this were not going to come back to finish the job. Then he brought some water and wash clothes from the porch, securing that door as well. Returning to Yumichika, his ire was the only thing that kept him from breaking down at the sight of such brutality. As he washed away the blood, the extent of Yumichika's injuries became more apparent. The injuries caused by the sexual attack were horrible enough, but it was the message burned into Yumichika's cheeks that caused Ikkaku the greatest pain. The message made it clear that the only reason they had done this to Yumichika was because of Ikkaku. But given Ikkaku's strength and readiness for a fight, they had not dared to attack him. Yumichika had been a much easier target. They must have been anxiously waiting for Ikkaku to leave the village just so they could take out their rage.

He smeared the healing ointment over Yumichika's body, drew the blanket over him, and sat down on the floor. He had reached the limit of his knowledge. And his abilities. Now, all he could do was wait.

* * *

><p>Yumichika had never known such pain before. Even when he had resided in the world of the living, where his pain had been continual, still it had been dull and tolerable. This pain, however, was a fire that burned in every part of his being –so much that he thought death would be preferable to the suffering.<p>

_"I'm not going to let you give up."_

It was the reikon's voice.

_"I don't want to stay . . . let me go . . . please,"_ Yumichika begged in the silence of his mind.

_"I won't do that, master,"_ the reikon replied. _"You have to keep fighting."_

"_It hurts too much,"_ Yumichika protested.

_"You must hold on, give me more time to heal you,"_ the reikon implored. "_I can make the pain stop, but you need to stay with me. I need more time."_

Yumichika gave no response. The physical pain was not the only hurt he was suffering. Even if the reikon could heal his body, would he be able to erase the memories? Would he be able to ease the frightening thoughts that were surfacing as Yumichika's coherence returned? The realization that he had misjudged the situation from the beginning. He had never stood a chance of winning the villagers back over. Ikkaku had been right: they'd hated him. They'd hated him for taking himself away from them. The reikon had been right: he'd been given a gift that he'd horribly misused, and now he was reaping the results. Yumichika had been wrong. Wrong, willfully blind, and arrogant in his self-certainty.

Beside him, the reikon moved his fingers slowly over the bruised flesh of Yumichika's abdomen. The injuries that lay beneath the skin were even more extensive than the reikon had believed, and his greatest fear now was that he did not even have enough energy to return his master to a point where he could continue recovery on his own strength. The reikon's energy had been steadily fading since he had begun healing Yumichika; and although he was loathe to admit it, he did not feel he had the courage to go the full length of sacrifice and forfeit his own existence to save his master – even though he knew Yumichika's death meant his own death.

It was with this recognition of his own weakness that the reikon appealed to his master once more_. "I can't give you the will to hold on, kimi. That has to come from you. Please . . . please, master, I don't want to die."_

* * *

><p>Yumichika had not stirred once, not given any indication that he had any awareness at all. For almost two weeks, Ikkaku had sat at his side, watching him fearfully, expecting that at any second, he would stop breathing. Even though the outward signs of Yumichika's injuries were slowly healing, Ikkaku could not kid himself. He knew that Yumichika was still closer to death than life. It was a terrifying truth.<p>

To keep his mind from growing too morose, he often directed his thoughts towards the question of who was responsible.

He was already certain of the part of the answer.

Hinsamoi.

The merchant had never forgiven Ikkaku for that night in the hutch. He'd never forgiven Yumichika for abandoning his former activities. And he'd already shown a predilection for inflicting pain. Now, he had exacted his revenge against both of them. He had to have known that Yumichika would not fight back – or even if he did, he was so slight and inexperienced, he would not have stood a chance of prevailing.

It made Ikkaku's blood boil. The speed and ease with which everyone had turned against Yumichika was vile example of the true wickedness of the villagers. But that wickedness had existed long before he'd met Yumichika. It was only his appearance in Yumichika's life that had brought everything crashing down. He was the reason Yumichika was on the verge of death, and it was his own self-centered lack of resolve that had set up the circumstances under which Yumichika had been left vulnerable.

He had cut Yumichika off from his customers, engendering their resentment. He had then fallen victim to his own lustful desires, the guilt of which had driven him to flee. And his lack of courage had kept him away much longer than he'd planned. What else could he possibly do wrong? For all his promises that he would protect Yumichika, he had failed miserably, and now how was he to make things whole again?

That was, if Yumichika even survived. And that was no certainty. As the days wore on, and Yumichika remained silent and motionless, Ikkaku began to despair of his recovering.

To occupy some of the dreadful hours, he began cleaning up the house. The entire place had been ransacked, yet nothing was missing. Fortunately, there was still plenty of food, although it had been scattered over the entire place. Ikkaku collected it and returned it to the cupboards. He never stayed away from Yumichika's side for more than a few minutes at a time, and each time he returned, he hoped for an improvement. But Yumichika remained unconscious.

Ikkaku had guessed from his injuries, that at least two days had already passed before he'd found him. During that time, infection had been festering, pumping poison into Yumichika's body, driving his temperature up to dangerous levels. Ikkaku had placed cold wash clothes on his skin to try and lower the fever. This had driven Yumichika to shivers, so Ikkaku had added another blanket. He'd had no idea if what he was doing was helping or hurting, but he had no one else to ask. He had never realized how much he had taken Yumichika's medical know-how for granted, and now he wished he'd paid more attention.

He had thought more than once about fetching Kaekae, for surely the old man would have some store of knowledge beyond what Ikkaku possessed. But he could not risk leaving Yumichika for the thirty minutes it would take to go to the sea and return. He would not leave Yumichika alone to possibly be brutalized again, and he did not dare move him.

Ikkaku's world had shrunk down to this one room and this one man.

* * *

><p>The reikon heard a soft groan.<p>

His eyes shot open onto his own reflection in his master's eyes. He had been laying beside Yumichika for some time now, his strength very nearly depleted; but still, he had one hand under his master's back, the other resting on his broken arm. Yumichika had turned his head to the side and was regarding him with a sad, tired expression.

"Master," the being exhaled, relief washing over him. "You're awake."

Yumichika's words surprised him.

"You're pale."

The reikon swallowed down his emotion. "I'm fine. You—you . . . you didn't give up."

Yumichika was persistent. "Why do you look like that?" he asked in a weak voice.

The reikon could not believe that, with all his master was suffering, yet his first thoughts were not for himself but for someone else.

"I'm just tired . . . from worrying about you," he replied.

Yumichika spoke slowly. "You're crying."

The reikon was stunned. He reached up and touched his fingertips to his cheek. They came back wet.

"I am," he said, the disbelief clear in his voice. The shadow of a smile crossed his face. "I don't know why."

A long silence ensued, then Yumichika spoke again.

"You stayed with me."

"Did you think I would leave you?" the reikon said.

Yumichika hesitated for several seconds before saying, "_He_ did."

The reikon knew of whom his master was speaking. "You're talking about Madarame? He came back. He's been at your side for the past two weeks. He's terrified that you're going to die."

Yumichika looked away.

The reikon reached up and put his fingers over Yumichika's cheek, where Madarame's name was burned into the flesh. Hideous as the wound was, he had not yet directed any healing energy to it – or the other cheek – as they had not presented as dangerous a threat to Yumichika's life as the internal injuries had. But now, he felt he should give some small part of what little energy he had remaining to the task; for the last thing Yumichika would need was a constant reminder, every time he saw his reflection, of who had precipitated the entire ghastly situation.

"Madarame has a lot of faults, but you can't accuse him of not caring," the reikon went on. He lowered his eyes. "I was wrong about him. He may not know his own mind, but the one thing he does know: he cares about you. It scares him, but he can't help it."

Yumichika did not want to talk about Ikkaku.

"Everything still hurts," he groaned.

"I'm still healing you, master," the reikan said. "It's just . . . it's going to go slowly. But you have a decision to make." A pause. "How much longer are you going to stay here in this world? It's time for you to wake up, master. You can't continue to hide in here. Madarame is waiting for you to wake up. He'll be able to help you, as well. You have to decide . . ." His voice was faint. "Are you going to live or die?"

* * *

><p>Ikkaku was drawing water from a barrel he had placed outside below the roof drain when heard a shallow cough from within, followed by soft mumbling.<p>

He dropped the pot he was carrying and was at Yumichika's side immediately.

"Yumichika!" he implored, putting his hand on Yumichika's shoulder and squeezing gently. "Yumichika, do you hear me?"

Several seconds went by, and then Yumichika's eyes opened slowly. His gaze fell on Ikkaku, and he stared blankly. For a long moment, Ikkaku was afraid he didn't recognize him. But then in a voice barely audible, Yumichika spoke.

"Ikkaku . . . "

The relief that flooded into Ikkaku's senses threatened to drive him to tears. The feeling was completely foreign to him – the feeling of caring about someone that much. He didn't know how to handle it. But the last thing he wanted was to appear weak or flustered in front of Yumichika – especially now when Yumichika would need him to be strong.

"It's about time," he said with a smug, expectant grin.

But Yumichika did not return the humor. He looked utterly devastated – confused and dull. The injuries to his face made his appearance all the more pitiable.

Ikkaku abandoned his attempt at levity. "How do you feel?" he asked.

Yumichika was sluggish in replying. "Bad."

"Are you in pain?"

A nod.

"Is there anything I can do? I don't know anything about stuff like this. You're the one with all that knowledge."

A long silence was followed by Yumichika's considered reply. "Brew maysa leaves . . . in some sake."

Ikkaku raised an eyebrow. "Sake?"

"Maysa's for—infection. The sake for pain."

"Okay," Ikkaku nodded, fetching the leaves from a shelf over the basin and setting about fixing the brew. As he worked, he talked. "I've been worried sick about you," he admitted, feeling somehow less inhibited when he was not facing Yumichika, when he was engaged in other activity. He went on, "This—this shouldn't have happened to you. If I'd been here—"

"You wouldn't have been able to stop them," Yumichika interrupted, his voice a little stronger.

Ikkaku stopped and turned back to him. "Them?" He walked back over to the futon. "Yumichika, how many were there?" His manner had turned dangerously serious.

Yumichika looked anywhere but at Ikkaku. "Eight or nine . . . I'm not sure."

"Eight or nine . . . " Ikkaku felt the horror all over again. He clenched his teeth to keep his temper from exploding. "Did they all—did they all . . . " He could not finish, but his meaning was clear.

Yumichika stumbled over his answer. "I don't know. I couldn't tell."

"Do you remember what happened?"

Yumichika nodded. "I remember. It just . . . it became confusing, and I was . . . everything got hazy."

Ikkaku looked at him intensely for a long moment before bursting out, "Yumichika, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say to you. I wish I hadn't gone away. This is all my fault."

"Ikkaku . . . stop, please," Yumichika said in a feeble voice. "You didn't know they would do this."

"I shouldn't have left you," Ikkaku insisted. "Yumichika . . . please forgive me . . . for everything."

"I don't blame you," Yumichika replied.

"But it's my fault—"

"Ikkaku . . . I'm too . . . I don't want to talk about it, please," Yumichika replied.

Ikkaku hesitated. Clearly, the pain was too fresh. He turned to finish preparing the elixir. He brought the cup over to the futon and held Yumichika's head up to help him drink it.

"Is there anything else I can do?" Ikkaku asked, setting the empty cup aside. "I—I feel so useless."

"No," Yumichika replied. "I just want to sleep."

Ikkaku nodded. "Okay. I'll be right here if you need anything."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 The Departure

_"All my life, I never really knew me til today.  
>Now I know why, just another step along the way.<em>_"_

_You Can Never Go Home  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p>Yumichika knew the reikon was still beside him. Even lying with his eyes closed, he could feel the nearness of the being, and it gave him comfort.<p>

He opened his eyes and turned his head.

The reikon appeared to be sleeping. He no longer had his hands on any part of Yumichika's body. Whatever healing he had been doing, it was over for the time being. The light surrounding him was still dim, but his beauty had not diminished. Yumichika felt an even more powerful fondness for him than before. He knew the reikon had saved his life, and he also knew he could never repay him. Now, he wondered if he would even have the chance.

"Reikon?" he said in a voice still feeble with weakness. "Reikon?"

The being responded first with a smile then opened his eyes. "Kimi."

Yumichika immediately noticed the thinness of his voice. "Don't leave me," he implored.

The reikon's smile widened. "I don't plan to."

"You look so weak," Yumichika fretted.

"I _am_ weak," the reikon replied. "I didn't have the courage to . . . give you all my energy. I didn't want to die."

"You saved me without having to give all of it ," Yumichika said.

"Kimi . . . you won't die, but you have a long way to go," the reikon explained. "As you get better, I'll recover my energy much faster than your body will heal. But everything I regain, I'll use to keep healing you."

Yumichika lowered his gaze. After several seconds, he said, "I'm glad you didn't use all your energy. I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here anymore."

The reikon managed a small laugh. "You'd be lost without me."

"It's true," Yumichika agreed.

After a short silence, the reikon reached out and placed his hand on top of Yumichika's as a test of sorts. "You're still too weak for me to start regaining any energy."

"I can hardly move," Yumichika replied. "Everything hurts so badly."

The reikon squeezed his hand. "It will pass. I can make you as good as new. I promise, I will."

Yumichika closed his eyes. He believed him. He would always believe him.

* * *

><p>Ikkaku sat by the brazier, eating a meal that consisted of nothing but a bowl of rice and a cup of sake, and counting blessings he never knew he had.<p>

Almost an entire day had passed since Yumichika had first awoken, and now Ikkaku anxiously awaited the second time. There were so many things he wanted to ask him, yet he knew he had to proceed carefully. While it seemed to him that Yumichika had made remarkable progress, he was still a long way from a full recovery. By all logic, Yumichika should be dead. He'd suffered a horrific beating and sexual attack. And on top of that, the fact of his strong spirit energy meant his body needed nourishment. He hadn't eaten or drank in the past two weeks; and yet here he was, still alive. What had sustained him? It mystified Ikkaku.

"Ikkaku?"

The sound of Yumichika's voice pulled him out of his private quandary. He set aside his food and kneeled close beside the futon.

"I'm here," he said softly. When Yumichika's gaze fell on him, he smiled at the increased coherence he saw in his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," came the reply, as obvious a lie as Ikkaku had ever heard.

"Can I get you anything? Do you need anything?" he asked.

"No," Yumichika replied. "Just . . . stay with me."

"I will," Ikkaku assured him. "Do you want any more Maysa leaves?"

"Maybe later," Yumichika said. "I'm tired. I just want to rest and . . . know you're nearby."

Ikkaku was moved by these words. "Rest, then."

Yumichika closed his eyes, but opened them again almost immediately.

"Ikkaku?"

"Yeah?"

"There is something you can do," he said tepidly.

"What is it?"

There was a slight hesitation. "Bring me a mirror."

Ikkaku froze for a moment, then replied definitively. "No."

"Ikkaku, I know what to expect," Yumichika replied. "Please, I want to see what I look like."

"No, Yumichika." Ikkaku was hard as stone.

"It must be very bad," Yumichika said in a tone that bespoke his fear.

"It's going to take a while," Ikkaku replied. "Once your riatsu gets back to a more stable level, the healing will go faster. But you look a lot better now than you did two weeks ago."

Yumichika's eyes widened. "Two weeks? I—I've been unconscious for two weeks?"

Ikkaku nodded slowly. "You were very sick. They did a number on you. Your body needed that time to heal."

"I guess so."

Ikkaku hesitated as he considered. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Yumichika lowered his eyes. "No," he breathed. "Not yet."

Ikkaku nodded. "Okay. Get some rest. You can barely keep your eyes open."

Yumichika nodded.

Ikkaku arranged the pillows and coverings. "I'll be right here," he said, walking over to sit by the brazier.

"Ikkaku?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you for taking care of me."

Ikkaku felt ashamed. "It's nothing you need to thank me for, Yumichika."

* * *

><p>Over the following weeks, Yumichika made modest progress. He spent most of the time sleeping, his body struggling back from its injuries, his spirit energy replenishing at a disturbingly low pace. He was mostly confined to bed, the damage to his lower body making it too painful for him to attempt standing without assistance, and even then, only for short periods of time.<p>

Ikkaku managed to keep the mirrors out of Yumichika's hands, for although the injuries to his face had continued to heal, they were still gruesome, and Ikkaku did not want him to see the message etched there until he was stronger. Yumichika would not be able to handle seeing his reflection yet – that much Ikkaku was sure of. And there was little else he was sure of.

Yumichika spoke very little. He gave no hint of what was going on inside his head. He managed a smile, sometimes genuine and sometimes fabricated, when expected. He would not speak of the incident of that night. He would not even reply to Ikkaku's demands for the identity of the attackers. He seemed intent on one thing: putting the entire episode behind him. And, in fact, he appeared to be doing a better job of it than Ikkaku.

For Ikkaku, the outrage had not diminished, and the more he thought about it, the angrier he became. Every time he recalled to mind the image of Yumichika lying on the ground as he had found him, he felt the burning desire for vengeance twisting in his gut. Yumichika had not deserved this. Despite his quirks, his enormous ego, and his single-minded love of his own beauty, Yumichika had never been cruel or unkind. He'd given no one any reason to want to hurt him so.

It had been an act born out of sheer jealousy.

Ikkaku found himself struggling between the urge to even the score and staying at Yumichika's side. The latter was winning that struggle. He would not leave Yumichika, and so the anger inside him continued to swell, and the only thing that kept him from exploding was his devotion to the more immediate task.

That devotion was paying off, although not as quickly as he would have liked. Yumichika's recovery during the first two weeks, when he had been unconscious, had been nothing short of miraculous; but since then, things had slowed down. Still, at length, he was well enough that he could hold a piece of cloth and a needle and do some sewing in his bed; and this seemed to improve his mood, which came as a relief to Ikkaku, for he did not like seeing Yumichika morose and pretending to be okay.

For Yumichika, it was much more than pretending. It was absolutely necessary. If he let himself dwell on what had happened, he would sink into despondency. If he did not regain some of his own strength, he risked losing the reikon. And then what? He would literally be a lost soul. He would be no good to Ikkaku. He would be no good to anyone.

So, what was slowing down his healing so dramatically? Yumichika knew, it was due, in part, to the fact that the reikon had used most of his own energy already and was now in the process of replenishing that strength, leaving less energy directed towards the process of healing. But that alone could not account for the snail's pace at which his injuries were mending. There had to be more to it, only he was relucatnt to look deeply for fear of what he might find.

"What is that thing?" Ikkaku asked. "You've been working on it for days now."

Yumichika, lying in bed, glanced over at Ikkaku who was filling candle molds with wax.

"A hanten," Yumichika replied. "It's taking so long, because it's not easy working with only one good arm."

"You're doing pretty good. Your arm seems to be healing," Ikkaku said in a positive voice. "You're using your hand just fine."

"It's coming along," Yumichika agreed. "It's been almost six weeks." He held up his arm and gave it a cursory examination. "It still throbs from time to time."

"I guess that will go on for a while," Ikkaku supposed.

"Yeah," Yumichika said in a subdued manner.

Not wanting Yumichika to sink into a dark mood, Ikkaku changed the subject. He had noticed over the past weeks that, while Yumichika managed most of the time to show a cheerful face, it seemed like a facade. There were bouts of sadness that were completely foreign to the Yumichika Ikkaku had known prior to the attack. Of course, there was good reason for the lowness, and Ikkaku showed a degree of understanding he would never have thought himself capable of.

"So, who are you making it for?" he asked.

Yumichika gave a small grin. "It's for you."

"Me?"

Yumichika nodded. "You don't have a good winter coat."

"I don't have a bad winter coat," Ikkaku chirped. "I don't have any coat at all."

"Well, you will soon. When I'm finished—"

Ikkaku interrupted him, holding up his hand, his demeanor suddenly becoming one of alertness. "Shhh . . . "

Yumichika fell silent.

There was a shuffling sound from outside the machiya. Both men heard it.

"Someone's out there," Ikkaku said, leaning over and dousing the light. He got to his feet and retrieved his sword from where it had been lying next to his sleeping mat. He looked back at Yumichika, seeing the ill-concealed terror in his expression. He hurried over to the cooking area, grabbed the carving knife, and forced it into Yumichika's hands.

"I'm going to see who's out there. Don't be afraid to use this," he said.

Yumichika nodded minutely, although his mind was hardly registering what Ikkaku was saying, so acute was his fear.

Ikkaku opened the door quickly and leapt out onto the porch. He shouted something unintelligible, then disappeared into the darkness.

Yumichika waited expectantly for the sounds of a fight, but none came. Once, he thought he heard the sound of footsteps, but that might have been his heart pounding in his ears.

One minute passed, then another.

Yumichika's thoughts were racing. What if something had happened to Ikkaku? What if the men who had attacked him had all returned? They were never going to leave him in peace.

Ever.

They would never forgive him. They would never let him go. They would pursue and torment him until they finally succeeded in destroying him, so insatiable was their lust for what he alone possessed, so violent was their jealousy.

As minutes passed without Ikkaku's return, panic overtook him.

"Ikkaku?" he called out softly, sitting fully upright and tightening his grip on the knife, lest it be rattled from his shaking hand. Then, slightly louder, he called out again.

There was no answer.

And then he heard a noise on the wash porch.

It had to be his attackers. Ikkaku would have answered his call. The fact that he had not answered meant he must not be able to. And now, the men would come in and finish what they had begun two months ago.

Yumichika dragged himself out of the bed and across the floor towards the front door. He had no idea what he was doing – fleeing from the sounds on the wash porch or going to search for Ikkaku. Unable to walk and with his right arm still mending, the only thing driving him and giving him strength was the fear; and even that could carry him only so far.

It was testimony to just how badly he'd been injured that halfway to the door, he collapsed and could go no further, despite the arenaline pumping through his veins.

"I saw a couple guys and chased them around the corner, but I lost them in the dark. They must have—damn, Yumichika, what are you doing?"

It was Ikkaku's voice. The next moment, Yumichika felt Ikkaku's hands on his shoulders, and before he knew it, he was back in the bed and being roundly chastised.

"I gave you that knife and told you to stay put," Ikkaku fussed. "What did you think you were doing? You can't even walk, where did you think you were going?"

Yumichika, still trembling, replied, "I—was afraid you'd—you'd—"

"Are you kidding?" Ikkaku shot back, knowing the rest of the sentence without needing to hear it. "Do you for one second anyone in this village could take me?"

Yumichika made an indeterminate, helpless gesture of his shoulders, and then without warning, he blurted out in a voice that verged on breaking, "I—I don't want to stay here anymore!" His eyes met Ikkaku's. "Please . . . can't we leave here? I want to leave. I don't want to stay here. Please, Ikkaku, please . . . I don't want to stay here. It was them . . . I know it was. They'll never leave me alone. They'll never stop wanting me." He could not stop shaking and repeating his plea over and over again.

Ikkaku was stunned. He'd never seen Yumichika so unrattled, nor had he ever imagined Yumichika would want to leave Mito, even after everything that had happened. But now, hearing the desperate edge in Yumichika's voice, he recognized that it would be impossible for him to continue to stay in the village. He had been living every day for the past two months in silent fear, no doubt stalked by unrelenting memories. Of course, he wanted to leave.

And that suited Ikkaku just fine. In fact, he almost felt a sense of elation at the idea of leaving.

He reached out and put a hand on Yumichika's shoulder in an oddly fraternal way, like an older brother comforting the younger. "Yes. Yes, we're going to leave. I'll take you away from here," he assured him.

Yumichika regained some of his composure.

"In fact, we'll leave tomorrow night," Ikkaku went on. "It can't be soon enough for me to get out of this place."

"But—but how? I can't walk—"

"You just leave it to me."

* * *

><p>It would mean leaving Yumichika alone for a short time, but there was no choice. And the time to go was now. It would be sunrise in about an hour, and the streets were at their quietest. He could slip down to the sea unnoticed and get back before sunrise. No one would know that Yumichika was alone; and besides, he didn't believe the taunters would come back twice in one night.<p>

It was the only way.

"Yumichika? Are you asleep?"

"No," came the whispered reply.

"Listen, I'm going to see Kaekae. I'm going to have to leave you for a little bit, but I'll be back before the sun comes up. I can get away now without anyone seeing me, so they won't know you're here alone," Ikkaku explained.

Yumichika was determined to sound stoic. "I'll be okay."

"Keep that knife with you," Ikkaku stressed. "I'll go as fast as I can. You think about what we should take with us."

Yumichika nodded. "Hurry."

Ikkaku did not hesitate a moment before leaving out the door to the wash porch.

Behind the machiya was a very small stone garden surrounded by the walls of other structures but with a narrow alleyway leading back up towards the street.

Ikkaku chose the rooftop route to avoid being seen and took the most direct line to the outskirts of the village. Here, he could hit the ground and move at top speed without fear of being seen, even though distance-wise, it was a longer way to Kaekae's boat launches.

The morning air was bitter cold. Winter was just coming to an end, and that was a good thing. It would make the coming journey easier. Ikkaku raced in his graceless manner towards the shoreline where he picked up the road that ran past the hutches, coming eventually to his destination. He was happy to see rays of light peeking out from the slats in the windows of Kaekae's hutch. That meant the old man was already awake.

He rapped on the door. "Kaekae! It's me, Madarame! I need your help!"

Almost immediately, the door opened. Kaekae stood in the doorway, looking bewildered.

"Madarame-san? Wha's wrong? Look at ya. Ya huffin' like a bull." He ushered Ikkaku inside.

It suddenly occurred to Ikkaku that Kaekae may not know what had happened to Yumichika. For a moment, he was at a loss as to how to proceed; but then, recalling the danger Yumichika was in at that moment, he opted for directness.

"Do you know what they did to Yumichika?" he asked.

"I 'eard," the old man replied.

A flash of anger came over Ikkaku's face. "Then why didn't you come over these past weeks? We could have used your help!"

Kaekae did not even flinch under the caustic words.

"I ne'er been to Ayasegawa's home. I don' know where it is. When I tried ta ask, no one'd help me. They didna wan' me tryin' to see 'im." He paused. "I heard talk ya was back, so I figured ya was takin' care a' 'im. And I decided it'd be bes' if I stayed away and didna cause any trouble for ya."

Ikkaku reddened. He felt foolish.

"I'm sorry, Kaekae," he apologized. "I know you're a good friend. I guess I just—I'm—I need your help. I need to get Yumichika out of here. The men who hurt him won't be satisfied until he's dead, and he doesn't want to stay here anymore. I need a cart or something like that, that I can pull. And then I need to be able to get him across the water fast. I'm afraid that if they discover he's gone, they'll come looking for him, so I want to get him away quickly."

Kaekae frowned. "Tha' bad, is it? I'll get ya whatcha need. When ya want ta be leavin'?"

"Tomorrow night, some time after midnight," Ikkaku replied. "Can you do it?"

"I can do it," Kaekae replied. "For Ayasegawa, I can do it."

Ikkaku nodded gratefully. He knew he could take Kaekae at his word. If the old man said he could make it happen, he would make it happen.

"I can't come back out here," Ikkaku explained. "I can't risk leaving him alone. Bring the cart to the copse by the mountain road just outside the village after midnight. I'll meet you there."

Kaekae nodded. "Do ya need any supplies?"

"I'll take whatever you can give me," Ikkaku replied, not wanting to use any more time to ponder what he might need. He had to get back to Yumichika. "I've got to go. I'll see you tomorrow night."

With that, he hurried back with even greater speed than that with which he had come out. It took him less than fifteen minutes for the return trip, and when he entered the machiya, he heaved a sigh of relief to find Yumichika in the same state as when he left him.

"That was fast," Yumichika said, trying to sound easy, but Ikkaku could sense his anxiety. Those minutes of Ikkaku's absence must have been nerve-wracking. "Did you see Kaekae?"

"Yes. He's going to take care of everything," Ikkaku replied. "He's going to bring a cart just outside the village tomorrow night, and then he's going to take us across the sea."

Yumichika's brows went up. "A cart? Ikkaku, you can't pull a cart day after—"

Ikkaku fixed him with an indignant glare. "What did you say? I can't pull a cart? Have you forgotten who you're talking to?"

Yumichika smiled in the gentle way of apologetic surrender that was so captivating to Ikkaku. "I know you're strong enough. I just meant that . . . I don't want you to feel like a beast of burden—"

"What, do you want me to carry you?" Ikkaku cut him off.

"No, that's even worse—"

"Look, you can't walk. I can't carry you for any long distance. A cart is the best solution," Ikkaku stated decisively, then adding before Yumichika could say anything, "And I don't want to mess with an animal to pull the thing. They're too unpredictable, and . . . well, I trust myself more than I trust any animal." Seeing that Yumichika was about to speak, he raised a warning finger. "Another word from you and I'll put you in a wheelbarrow."

Yumichika smiled again, nodding his acquiescence.

"So, did you decide what we should take with us?" Ikkaku asked.

"Yes, but I wasn't sure what you had in mind, and we don't know how big the cart will be, so we might have to cut back quite a bit," Yumichika replied. "Of course, we have to take food and clothing. And I thought I should take my sewing tools and some of the material. That way, I can make things and we can barter or sell them in the villages along the way. We'll need some cooking ware . . . "

Ikkaku listened to him run down his list, but the words only barely registered. Instead, what held Ikkaku riveted was the sudden, undeniable change in Yumichika's spirit. The moribund, withdrawn soul that had lain in the bed for the past two months had miraculously shed its gloominess and was now proceeding with industrious purpose towards the next step.

This then, Ikkaku decided, was what had been hindering Yumichika's convalescence. It was the village and its people, the memory of what had happened and the knowledge that he was still in the midst of the ones who had done it and the ones who had let it happen: these circumstances pressed on him and held him captive, more so than his actual injuries.

But now, with the decision to leave having been made, those things that had been weighing him down were soon to be removed. Just the prospect had improved him already.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 The Journey

_"Weep no more for treasures_  
><em>you've been searching for in vain,<em>  
><em>for the truth is gently falling with the rain."<em>

_You Can Never Go Home  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p>"It's time. You ready?"<p>

Yumichika nodded. "Ready."

Ikkaku leaned over and helped him sit up. "Get the blanket around you. Put your arm around my shoulders." He picked him up, pushing down his alarm at the feather-weight lightness of the body in his arms, and headed for the front door. There would be no going over the rooftops tonight.

At the gate, he stopped and peered out into the street. It was empty. Everything was quiet. He drew in a deep breath and stepped out.

Fifteen minutes later, he entered the copse where Kaekae was waiting with the cart.

"Madarame-san?"

"Yeah, it's us," Ikkaku replied, setting Yumichika carefully on the ground as Kaekae rushed forward to help.

Even in the night shadows cast by the trees, Kaekae could see the damage done to Yumichika's face, and he could not help but stare.

"Ayasegawa-san," he managed at last, but he didn't know what to say.

"Kaekae," Yumichika replied, extending his good arm and clasping the old man's hand with warmth. "It's good to see you."

The boatman was distraught. "I tried ta come see ya. I tried, but they wouldna let me."

"It's alright, Kaekae," Yumichika assured him. "I understand. What you're doing for us now . . . I can never repay you."

"Ya don' have ta repay me," Kaekae replied. "I just . . . I . . . " Again, he was caught short for words. There was nothing he could say to change anything, to make things better. The only thing he could do was make sure they got away safely.

Ikkaku was inspecting the cart, and he was well pleased with what he saw. It was roughly two meters long and just over a meter wide, with two large, spoked wheels and props at the front and back for stability. The cart bed was at waist level with side ribs and a canvas cover. Underneath the bed were several storage compartments. The oversized wheels would make it easy to pull, and it was big enough that they could fit plenty of supplies.

"This is perfect, Kaekae," he said. "Where did you get it?"

"I've 'ad it fa years," Kaekae replied.

"It's perfect," Ikkaku repeated. "I have to go back and start bringing the supplies. Look after him, will you?"

Kaekae nodded.

Nearly an hour later, Ikkaku had brought the last of the supplies to add to those which Kaekae had provided. The two of them loaded up the cart as Yumichika watched in silence.

And then the moment had come.

"This is it," Ikkaku announced. "Let's get you inside." He and Kaekae got Yumichika comfortably settled into the cart, and then Ikkaku took his place between the wooden traces and started pulling.

It was even easier than he'd imagined. That might have been due, in part, to his excitement over leaving; but it was of little matter. With Kaekae walking beside him, his heart felt as free as a bird.

"How is the weather looking tonight?" he asked.

"It shou' be calm," Kaekae replied. "We won' go far from shore an'way. We gon' folla the coastline down t' the far end o' the sea. It'll take 'bout two days if the wind is good. If the water ge's rough, we can put in."

"I want to avoid all towns for now," Ikkaku announced. "I don't want to take a chance that anyone will recognize us."

"Do ya really thin' they'd come afta ya?" Kaekae asked.

"I wouldn't put anything past them," Ikkaku replied. "I don't want to take the risk."

Kaekae nodded. "We'll put in where no one'll see ya."

Thirty minutes later, they came to the docks. Kaekae had already outfitted a small sail barge, and it was toward this that they headed. They took Yumichika out of the cart before they rolled it over a boarding plank onto the boat and secured it in front of the sail.

Ikkaku carried Yumichika aboard and laid him in the cart once again then drew back the canvas cover. It was a beautiful night, and Yumichika would want to see the stars, as well as the receding shoreline.

For the first thirty minutes after setting sail, no one spoke a word, except for Kaekae's instructions to Ikkaku, which were minimal, for Kaekae could have sailed the boat single-handedly; but being that there was an extra hand on board, he made use of him.

At length, when they were safely away from the shore, Ikkaku came and sat beside the cart.

"I can already feel it," he announced.

Yumichika looked at him with a curious expression. "Feel what?"

"The change in your riatsu," Ikkaku replied.

Yumichika smiled. "I'm not surprised. I feel like . . .it's all behind me. I can start over again."

Ikkaku gave a slight nod. "I know what you mean."

After a short pause, Yumichika spoke in a humble voice. "Thank you for doing this."

"It's as much for myself as it is for you," Ikkaku replied. "I hated that place."

"I know, but thank you anyway," Yumichika repeated. Then louder, "And thank you, Kaekae."

"Ah, don' thank me," the old man said with a wave of his hand. "I don' wan' ta see ya go, but Madarame-san's right – th'is what's best for ya."

"Maybe you should try to get some sleep," Ikkaku suggested. "It's going to be a long journey."

"Where are we going?"

"I haven't decided yet," Ikkaku replied.

Yumichika narrowed his eyes. "Then how do you know it's going to be long?"

"Because I'm going to get you as far from Mito as I can," Ikkaku replied. "So, you'd better reserve your strength."

Inwardly, Yumichika's happiness grew even greater as he watched the few lights of Mito grow ever fainter on the horizon. If he knew anything about it, it seemed his strength was already starting to return at an increased rate.

* * *

><p>"I'm glad he's taking you away from that place. I never did like it."<p>

"I used to love it."

"I know."

Yumichika opened his eyes. The reikon was still lying beside him, but the difference was immediate. The glowing halo of color had regained some of its vibrancy.

"How did things go so wrong?" Yumichika wondered out loud.

There was a brief pause before the reikon replied. "You already know the answer to that. You loved the wrong things . . . for the wrong reasons. To you, it was all a game. And when you stopped giving them what they wanted, they revealed themselves for what they really were."

"But I never thought . . . I never thought they'd do . . . something like that to me."

"That's because you felt you could control them; your confidence was matched only by your ego. Not only that - you loved the attention. You loved feeling wanted and being told how beautiful you were. You loved the things you could get by selling the one thing you knew everyone wanted. You thought your beauty was enough to mesmerize everyone."

"But it was,"Yumichika said, sounding slightly petulant. "Wasn't it?"

"Obviously not. If you had used me properly, it would have been enough," came the reply. "But you are still deficient in that area."

"Well, if you would take the time to teach me—"

Yumichika felt a touch like a breeze across his temple. He could almost sense a smile from his companion.

"Yes, I can definitely tell you are regaining your strength, snapping at me as if I were your servant. You may be my master, but I am not your slave. And I also know you'd argue with me just for the sake of arguing when you should be sleeping peacefully instead . . . _Yumichika_."

That rare use of his name again. It roused his attention, but it was almost as if the reikon's words had broken his concentration. He could no longer string together a coherent thought. As his mind began to drift, he managed one final question.

"When will you tell me your name?"

"Soon, I think. But you must get stronger first," the reikon replied, adding in a lyrical tone, "Sleep now."

* * *

><p>"'E still looks pretty rough," Kaekae remarked.<p>

"It's much better than it was," Ikkaku replied.

"Well, e' seems ta be takin' it lot better than I'd a thought," Kaekae went on. "Ya know 'ow much 'e thinks 'bout 'is looks."

"He hasn't seen his face since the attack," Ikkaku informed him. "I didn't think he'd be able to handle it." A pause. "It looks better now, but he's still got a long way to go."

"They wanted ta make their message clear," Kaekae said.

"Clear to me, at least," Ikkaku said with a low roll in his voice. "They wanted to make sure everyone knew that this was my fault." He grit his teeth. "So, they burned it into his face . . . cowards! If it was me they were angry at, why didn't they come after me? No, instead they went after Yumichika, knowing he wouldn't be able to defend against them." He paused and clenched his fists against a building rage. "You know, I am glad to be leaving that place, but I—I still want revenge. I want to make them pay for what they did. It came down to choosing between taking care of Yumichika and going after them—"

"An' you chose right," Kaekae interjected.

"But now, there'll never be a chance to get even," Ikkaku lamented. "While we were still in Mito, there was always the possibility that—"

"That Ayasegawa-san could die," Kaekae interrupted again, but this time he went on emphatically. "Why's it sa hard for ya t'admit ya chose Ayasegawa-san o'er revenge?"

Ikkaku was brought up short. He had not expected the question, and he had no idea how to answer it.

Kaekae went on. "Ya might hate ever'thin' else in this world, but there's a'leas' one thin' that means somethin' to ya. Na, don' look at me like ya don' un'erstand. I saw that 'bout ya the first time we met. Ya was filled wit' nothin' but hate. Ya wanted ta hate ever'thin', and ya wanted ever'thin' ta hate ya. But ya couldna hate Ayasegawa-san. And ya couldna make him hate ya."

Ikkaku shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, well, Yumichika's different from everyone else."

"Tha's true," Kaekae agreed. "But 'e's not the kinda man I'd expect someone like ya to go 'bout wit'."

Ikkaku's answer was simple and direct. "He wants me around."

Kaekae nodded his understanding. "Iz impor'ant, that – ta be wanted."

This was hitting too close to the mark. Ikkaku stood up. "Yeah, it is. I think I'm going to turn in. Wake me up when it's my watch." With that, he returned to the front of the boat and made himself comfortable close to the cart.

Kaekae was not surprised that Madarame had fled from the conversation.

Strong men loathed weakness – especially their own.

* * *

><p>Late in the afternoon of the second day, they came to shore.<p>

Lowering the sail, Kaekae and Ikkaku rowed the boat through a shallow reed bed, beaching on the shore, which was a sandy, muddy combination, but firm enough to allow for disembarkation.

"How are we going to get the cart out?" Ikkaku asked as he removed Yumichika from the cart and set him down on the gunwale.

Kaekae shook his head. "Ya got no sense, 'ave ya? Take the plank and put it o'ver the back here. No, a lil' further. Okay, now we push the cart up the plank, and when it's in the middle, push the plank down onto the shore, and it'll roll right off."

It was so stunningly simple that Ikkaku felt like a fool for even asking.

Five minutes later, the cart was safely on the shore. Ikkaku saw Yumichika settled in once more, and then he turned to Kaekae.

"I don't know how to thank you," he said, feeling completely inadequate to the task. He had not often expressed gratitude, except to Yumichika.

"Just take care a 'im. Don' let somethin' like this 'appen again," Kaekae replied then bowed slightly. Rising, he added as an afterthought, "An' don' be so angry. Nothin' in the past is worth losin' what ya got now." He walked past Ikkaku and approached Yumichika.

"Ayasegawa-san . . . I'm a miss ya," he said softly. "Ya the only one in that whole village I could tol'ate."

Yumichika swallowed, but when he spoke, his voice was steady. "I wish you could come with us, Kaekae, but I know you'd never leave the sea."

"Hm, aya, it's in ma blood," Kaekae replied.

"I made you something," Yumichika said, producing a large, heavy bag of sturdy material and leather handles. "It's a sea bag."

The old man accepted it without words, but the sheen in his eyes was expression enough.

"When did you make that?" Ikkaku burst out, stepping forward to look at the bag and marvel at the workmanship.

"Ikkaku," Yumichika implored gently, and Ikkaku could see that this was a very difficult parting for his friend.

"Sorry," he apologized, stepping back.

Kaekae put a wrinkled hand on Yumichika's arm. "Ya bes' be goin'."

Yumichika nodded. "Thank you for . . . for not . . . for being . . . "

Kaekae understood the words Yumichika could not speak. He stepped back. "G'on, now. Journey safe," he said as Ikkaku took his place between the traces.

He did not stay to watch them go. If there was one thing his life on the sea had taught him, it was that lingering over a good-bye did not make it any easier. Good-byes were the past, and there was no returning to the past.

Ahead was the only direction.

He pushed back towards the deeper water.

* * *

><p>Ikkaku looked back over his shoulder. Yumichika was asleep, much to his relief, for he'd feared that the motion over the uneven, pot-holed road would aggravate Yumichika's injuries and only add to his discomfort. But from the peaceful expression on his face, it was clear that Yumichika was faring well. Four hours had passed since they had come ashore, and the going had been painfully slow owing to the weather-damaged condition of the north-leading road wending off towards the distant mountains Ikkaku had visited only a few months ago.<p>

He trudged on, considering where they might go to. While it was true that he'd not had the chance to give that question much thought, he did have some ideas in mind. He'd been so busy finding a means of transportation and making sure he loaded everything that was needed, plotting the best time and route to leave the village, and making sure Yumichika was comfortable, that he'd given very little thought to the way beyond the sea. Getting Yumichika out of Mito had been his foremost concern.

And that, he had done successfully. Now, all that remained was, where to?

Thrilled as he was to be leaving Mito, he had to make sure he did not trade one hell for another. For Yumichikka's sake, he had to act and choose wisely; for while Yumichika seemed irrepressible, Ikkaku knew it was only possible to bend so far without breaking.

So, he would have to temporarily suppress his impetuous, bellicose nature and exercise caution and restraint. To begin with, he knew he certainly couldn't go to most of the towns he'd visited before. Quite simply, he was not welcome. His lust for conflict had made him a pariah in many parts – a scourge not soon forgotten. He would have to find someplace where he was not well-known, someplace quiet and safe. Someplace with little inducement for his own vagaries while providing peace and the sense of security that Yumichika needed.

And it had to be as far from Mito as possible.

He had only one place in mind. It would be a difficult journey in the melt and mud of spring, but well worth the effort.

* * *

><p>The smell of wood smoke woke Yumichika.<p>

It was dark and damp, but he felt rested and warm and comfortable.

"Ikkaku?"

"I'm here," came the reply. "Just getting this fire going . . . "

Yumichika looked around. They were in a wooded area, at the stone ruins of some small dwelling, overgrown and offering scant protection.

"Where are we?"

"Oh, just about half a kilometer off the main road. It's not safe to camp near the roads, so I took us back into the woods."

"Did you know this was here?" Yumichika asked.

"Yeah. I've been this way a few times," Ikkaku answered. "It'll be dawn soon. I thought we could rest for the morning and start again in the afternoon."

Yumichika nodded. "You must be tired."

"Hmph!" Ikkaku snorted. "You don't weigh anything."

"But the cart does, and it's full of stuff, and you haven't had any sleep. I know you like your sleep—"

"You're insulting me again," Ikkaku shot back in his usual blustery manner. "A little work and sleep deprivation, and you think I'm a geisha?"

"I didn't say that," Yumichika simpered. "You really do need to get some sleep. You're so grouchy."

Ikkaku grumbled something unintelligible, then, "At least, you're in a good mood."

"I slept well."

Ikkaku eyed him with scrutiny. "There's something else."

"What else could there be?" Yumichika asked, then added, "I'm happy. I'm glad it's all over. A new life has started."

Ikkaku couldn't help but feel a degree of admiration for Yumichika's resilience and conviction – even if he did find the whole thing a bit melodramatic and smacking of unwarranted optimism.

"A new life, huh?" he echoed. "So, does that mean I can say good-bye to the mild, meek Yumichika? Or the self-loving egomaniac? Or the bossy, arrogant narcissist?"

"What does that leave?" Yumichika grinned.

Ikkaku considered. "Nothing interesting." He came over to the cart. "Come on, you should sit by the fire, where it's warm." He helped him slide out and supported him over to a spot on the ground where he had already laid out pillows and blankets enough to provide a soft place for Yumichika to recline. "So, does this new life include learning how to fight?" he went on.

"You never give up, do you?" Yumichika said without malice, as Ikkaku eased him to the ground. "I think I should concentrate on just being able to walk again for now."

"Okay, okay," Ikkaku conceded. "But don't think I'm giving up on this."

"I never would think that."

Ikkaku got him settled. "Are you warm enough?"

"Yes, this is perfect."

"Hungry?"

"Starved."

This, more than anything, pleased Ikkaku. A return of appetite was a very good sign.

He went back to the cart, rummaged through their food supplies and came back with some rice balls, dried fish, and sugar dates.

"Is this okay, or do you want something hot to eat?" he asked.

"This is fine."

"I can heat some water for tea," Ikkaku offered.

"That would be nice." Yumichika marveled at Ikkaku's attentiveness. In a strange way, it seemed that Yumichika's misfortune might have done Ikkaku some good, as it had created the necessity for Ikkaku to serve instead of be served, to tend instead of being tended.

As Ikkaku set about making the tea, Yumichika asked carefully, "Ikkaku . . . what message did they leave?"

Ikkaku's throat tightened. He glanced up at Yumichika for only the briefest moment, then resumed what he was doing. "Huh?" It was a weak attempt at deflection, but he needed time to think of how he would respond, for he knew Yumichika would not give up.

"I heard you and Kaekae talking," Yumichika explained. "My face . . . they wrote something, didn't they? What was it?"

"It's not important," Ikkaku replied without looking at him, adding, "And why did you pretend to be asleep? That was pretty low—"

"Ikkaku," Yumichika cut him off. "I want to see what I look like. I want to see what they wrote."

"I didn't bring any mirrors," Ikkaku replied. "And even if I had, I wouldn't let you see yourself yet."

"Is that to protect me or yourself?" Yumichika challenged.

"Both of us," Ikkaku replied.

"I can handle seeing my reflection," Yumichika insisted.

"Maybe you could," Ikkaku conceded. "Look, I know you're a lot stronger inside than I give you credit for. But . . . but maybe I'm not so strong."

"What do you mean?" Yumichika asked.

"I mean that I . . . I don't want to risk losing you," Ikkaku admitted at last.

"Ikkaku . . . "

"This is stupid talk," Ikkaku said gruffly.

Yumichika was not deterred. "Ikkaku, come here."

"I'm fixing the tea—"

"That can wait. Come here."

Ikkaku sighed in false exasperation and sauntered over to where Yumichika was lying.

"Sit down," Yumichika told him.

Ikkaku sat, but he would not make eye contact.

"You're right: this is stupid talk," Yumichika began. "Because the idea that I would walk away from you is stupid."

"You can't walk at all right now—"

"Ikkaku!" Yumichika chastised. "Just listen to me, and I promise I'll never bring it up again."

"Fine."

"If you're afraid that I'll leave you, you can stop worrying," Yumichika went on. He paused. "You told Kaekae that you hung around because I wanted you around. Don't you believe that?"

"Of course, I do," Ikkaku replied peevishly. "But there's no guarantee that that will last."

"There's no reason to think it won't," Yumichika replied. A grin appeared. "I mean, neither of us is exactly easy to get along with."

"You had everybody eating out of your hand," Ikkaku corrected.

"And see where it got me," Yumichika replied soberly.

"That wasn't your fault," Ikkaku said.

"Yes, it was," Yumichika replied, then before Ikkaku could argue, "I know you think it was your fault. But it was mine. I'm the one who used my looks and my—my body to get what I wanted. I knew I was seducing everyone around me. I'm the one who took that away." He paused. "And I'm the one who was foolish enough to think they'd let it go."

"But you'd never have stopped doing it if it hadn't been for me, and then they never would have hurt you like this," Ikkaku insisted.

"You're right," Yumichika replied. "And I'd still rather be where I am today than to go back to doing it again."

Ikkaku looked down. "It's like I said – you're stronger than me." He hesitated. "Because I'd rather we'd never have met than to risk losing you."

"But you didn't lose me," Yumichika pressed. "And you won't. I don't know what happened to you in the past, but I want you with me. If others cast you aside—"

"Stop, Yumichika," Ikkaku demanded. "That's none of your business. You weren't supposed to hear any of that, and it's nothing I want to talk about."

Yumichika nodded. "Okay. I'm sorry. I'll just speak for myself. We're friends, aren't we? Doesn't that mean something?"

Ikkaku frowned. "I guess so." He stood up. "So, as a friend, I guess I should let you see your reflection, then."

"You said you didn't bring a mirror," Yumichika said.

Ikkaku went to the cart and opened one of the underneath compartments. "I lied," he said, drawing out a face-sized hand-held mirror. "I knew the day would come when you were healed enough that you should see yourself again. This isn't the day, and I . . . I don't know how you'll feel after you see it, but . . . I guess I have no choice but to run that risk."

He handed him the mirror.

Yumichika hesitated, then held the mirror in front of him.

To his credit, he did not gasp or startle. He had been expecting the worst, and the truth was that this was nowhere near his most fearful imaginings.

Gruesome though it was, everything was still intact; the bruising and swelling had faded, except on his cheeks, where all that remained was the burned message, the lines now red and puffy but easily legible.

Madarame's Whore.

Again, he felt no sense of shock or horror. He had felt those emotions at the moment when the ember had touched his cheek. The message was insignificant when compared with the pain that had accompanied it.

Still, he now understood why Ikkaku had been so fearful of him seeing the inscription.

"It's not as bad as I thought it would be," he stated, turning his head to view himself from different angles in much the same way he always had when admiring his appearance.

Ikkaku wasn't sure if he meant it or was just saying it to ease his guilty conscience.

"You're still healing," he said anxiously.

"Oh, I think it will heal up so well that no one will ever know it happened," Yumichika said, feeling certain that the reikon could manage it. He looked up to see Ikkaku standing uncomfortably above him.

"I see now why you were worried," he said kindly. "But it doesn't make any difference to me, Ikkaku. It made them feel good to do it. But they've lost, because it doesn't make me feel any differently about you."

Ikkaku was silent, wondering how he could have stumbled upon such an exceptional soul, what he could have done to deserve such friendship when everything else in his existence had been one disaster after another.

"I'll get the tea," he mumbled. It was the best he could offer.

Yumichika did not pursue the matter any further. He took one final look in the mirror then set it aside. Very soon, even the marks on his cheeks would be nothing more than a part of the past.

* * *

><p>The next two weeks introduced Yumichika to parts of the Soul Society that he had never known existed. His life, up until this point, had been limited to the area around the Ulandsee, and even then only a smart part of it.<p>

What he was now discovering was what Ikkaku had told him long ago. While most of Soul Society was pleasant, there were dangers that could not be denied. Along with the beauty came ugliness – in many and varied forms.

The roads were filled with bandits and gangs, and it was only through Ikkaku's experience as a wandering vagrant that the two of them had not encountered any problems in that area. He knew the safest times to travel, the routes most removed from danger, and he had an uncanny ability for finding secluded, protected resting places that were accessible to the cart. He avoided the villages and towns and settlements; and whereas, the last time he had traveled this direction, he had not paid much attention to his surroundings, this time, moving at such a slow pace, he was able to absorb and admire the landscape through which he was passing.

His last time passing this way, it had taken him less than four days to travel this stretch to the mountains. This time, four weeks had already passed when he finally came to the foothills. Pulling the cart, keeping off the road during the daylight hours, and tending to Yumichika had naturally made the journey that much longer. During those four weeks, he had watched as Yumichika's strength and state-of-mind continued to improve. He still could not walk, but he could stand with help for short periods of time. The good-natured smile that had at one time seemed perpetual, before being lost in the aftermath of the attack, had returned.

The one thing that remained conspicuously absent was the egotistical exposition of his beauty. Yumichika did not say a word about his appearance, which actually struck Ikkaku as unfortunate, for he had come to enjoy listening to Yumichika's self-absorbed adulation of his own assets. He hoped it was not gone forever.

Late in the afternoon on the day they reached the foothills of the mountains, Ikkaku heard the distant rumbling of thunder. Looking back over the gently undulating landscape in the direction from which they had just come, he saw the sky was clear, which meant the storm was ahead of them, over the mountains. That further meant that the path he had wanted to take, a gully that ran up between steep, creviced walls of the mountain, would most likely soon be gushing with water and the higher elevations might even get some snow, being that it was only the beginning of April.

He would have to take another route or wait until the storm passed. Being as he despised waiting and had already done far too much of it over the past month, he decided to skirt the base of the hills and take the path along the broad river valley to the east. It was not his first choice. The narrow valley would have been much faster; but while the broad valley route would add a day or two the journey, there was little chance of it being overwhelmed by flood waters.

He turned to Yumichika. "We'd better put the cover up. I think it's going to be raining soon."

"Sounds like it. I wonder if there's anywhere to take shelter."

"If we come across any, we can stop. But let's get this cover up," Ikkaku replied.

Ten minutes later, the tarp was in place, and thirty minutes later, the rain came. It swept down off the mountain in powerful gusts that snapped the trees back and forth and immediately turned even the packed road into a nearly impassable river of mud.

Ikkaku knew there were caves up ahead, but they were still four or five miles off and on the forest track that led up into the mountains. Heading up the mountain was not something he wanted to do, in the event of snow at the higher elevations. He kept plodding on, coming to a series of run-down storehouses, but they were so derelict that he considered them more a danger than a refuge. A single strong wind could bring the decaying roofs down upon them. He kept going.

At length, the driving rain slowed to a steady downpour and then to a light rain. Ikkaku was drenched to the bone, and dare he admit it, tired. He looked up at the rising mountains on his left. There was no snow on them. That meant he might be able to take the mountain track after all, if it was not too rutted. At this point, he was willing to give it a try. He could use a stop in the caves where thermal springs provided the means for a hot soak.

He went around to the back of the cart and looked inside. Yumichika was lying on his side, and even though his face was obscured by the slate of black hair, Ikkaku could tell he was asleep. Ikkaku closed the flap and looked up and down the road. There was not another soul in sight – not surprising, given the weather. He must be the only fool out in it. To his left, the land climbed up into the hills and mountains. On his right, there was a wooded embankment that climbed at least twenty vertical feet over a gradual, wooded slope. On top, he could see a few rocky outcroppings which would afford a good view down the road and perhaps give him an indication of how much further he had to go before reaching the mountain track.

It would take him less than two minutes to reach the top of the embankment. He could be up and back, and Yumichika would not even know he'd been gone. He sprang up to the first ledge and plunged into the woods. The rain had turned the embankment into a crumbly slope, and he lost his footing several times. As such, it took him about five minutes to get to the top. Looking to the east along the road they were traveling, he could see the hazy outline of a bowl-shaped hill rising through the rainy mist about a kilometer ahead. The mountain track ran over that hill.

Ikkaku nodded his decision. He could be at the foot of the track in less than thirty minutes.

He was about to start heading down when movement in his periphery caught his attention. He looked down towards the cart. There were men approaching it – he counted six.

A smile crossed Ikkaku's face. Suddenly, the tiredness left his body. This was just what he needed. A little diversion.

* * *

><p>In the cart, the cessation of motion was enough to rouse Yumichika from his sleep. He'd become so used to the swaying and pitching of the cart that its absence reached clear through his unconscious state and prodded him to wakefulness. He sat up and stretched.<p>

"Ikkaku?"

Receiving no answer, he leaned forward and opened the canvas flap in the back of the cart. Immediately, his eyes fell on the image of several men on the road, coming towards him. But before panic could set in, he heard Ikkaku's voice coming from somewhere behind him.

"If you're looking for trouble, you've found it." In the next moment, Ikkaku came into view, his scabbarded sword resting over his shoulder like a lumberjack holding an ax.

"No trouble, friend," one of the men replied in a manner that clearly bespoke trouble.

"Then just keep on moving," Ikkaku advised.

The men stopped several meters in front of him. "You got val'able cargo in dere?" the same man asked.

"I said keep moving," Ikkaku replied.

From the tone of Ikkaku's voice, Yumichika could tell that he was not concerned in the least. Ikkaku already knew he could take these men if need be.

"Who's Madarame?" a second man asked.

Ikkaku was perplexed, but he did not show it. "I am. What business is it of yours?"

"You his owner?" the second man nodded towards the cart.

Ikkaku was loose. "I'm nobody's owner."

"You got yer name etched into his face." It was still the second man. "Why is that if he ain't yours?"

The kanjis. Ikkaku had forgotten about them.

"I'm only going to tell you one more time. Be on your way," he warned.

The first man crossed his arms thoughtfully. "You can see why he's branded. Maybe he is a whore, but I'll bet he's a really good one." A pause. "You sellin'?"

Ikkaku drew his sword from its scabbard. "Why don't you come find out?"

"Just tryin' to give you a good deal," the first man went on. "We'll pay you plenty. He'll bring a good price - even wi' his face like dat."

Ikkaku narrowed his eyes. "You're slavers."

"Us? Nah. We're just dem what finds nice merc'andise an' gives it to da traders."

Ikkaku was horrified. "Go. Back the way you came. Make one wrong move, and I'll kill you. Believe me, you won't stand a chance against me, and I'm dying for a fight."

The man considered. "Seems a shame to let him go, but . . . " He shrugged. "Not worth getting' killed over. Plenty more to be found."

He turned and began walking back own the road. The others followed him.

No sooner had they started walking than Ikkaku scowled and leaned back against the cart. "Damn! I was hoping to get some practice in." He glanced over at Yumichika. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Yumichika replied. "I just can't—I can't believe they wanted to sell me."

Ikkaku was not so surprised. "It's still a business, even in Soul Society. And they're probably right. You _would_ bring in a hefty sum."

Yumichika was pensive. "It's never really going to end, is it?"

Ikkaku knew Yumichika was not talking about the slave trade, but about his own situation, his desirability, the way he attracted even unwanted attention.

"It has ended," Ikkaku said emphatically, fearful that Yumichika might fall back into melancholy. "I'm here to make sure of that."

"You can't stop them from wanting me," Yumichika sighed.

This was true. Ikkaku could not argue the point. He drew in a deep breath.

"That's part of who you are, Yumichika. You're not just beautiful, you . . . it's like you said the day I met you – there's something about you that's . . . captivating, and people want to possess it."

Yumichika looked at him plaintively. "I can't help that—"

"I know you can't – right now," Ikkaku replied. "But I think you can learn how. It's not just a quality you possess. It's an ability, and you can learn how to control the ability."

"I didn't use my ability to attract those men," Yumichika protested.

"I know," Ikkaku replied. "But you could learn to use your ability to temper whatever it is that makes people want you in that way. You're going to have to try. Otherwise, this sort of thing is going to keep happening."

The bluntness of this last statement brought a chill to Yumichika's heart, but Ikkaku went on before he could indulge his grief.

"Would you rather be ugly? You value your own beauty so much, would you rather be ugly and repulse people?"

His words had the intended effect of choking off Yumichika's emotional floodgate, but there was something else. Ikkaku sensed a wall go up immediately. It was the same reaction Yumichika had shown the first time Ikkaku had off-handedly mentioned the idea of Yumichika being ugly. Obviously, something in his remark had struck a nerve, and now Yumichika was retreating.

Ikkaku pushed past the awkwardness of the moment. "It looks like we can take the mountain path up ahead. I think it will be good to get off the main road. I'll bet those guys were hiding in those ruined storehouses we passed a few miles back. I don't think we'll see anyone going through the mountains. And there are some caves with thermal springs in them. It will be good to warm up and take a soak. It'll take me a couple hours, so you can go back to sleep. Get some more rest."

Yumichika nodded.

The difficulty of the going helped mitigate the thoughts racing through Ikkaku's mind. What was he going to do? He feared that the incident would throw Yumichika back into moroseness and undo all the progress he had made thus far. Yumichika had been so happy since leaving Mito, recovering so well, he was to the point where Ikkaku had imagined he'd be up pulling the cart himself in a matter of weeks.

Now, he wasn't sure. He'd already seen what the event had done to him from an emotional standpoint. And he was stymied as to what to do about the situation, for the undeniable truth was that, until Yumichika learned how to turn off his desirability, he was at risk; and Ikkaku could only do so much to mitigate that risk.

Still, the incident with the men had not seemed to upset Yumichika nearly as much as Ikkaku's _ugly _comment. It was baffling, and it needed to be dealt with. But how? How could Ikkaku know that in handling it, he wouldn't make it worse?

The last thing he wanted was to cause Yumichika any more pain.

* * *

><p>"He left you." The reikon's voice was derisive. "The big oaf. He knew you were helpless, and he left you."<p>

"Don't be angry at him," Yumichika implored. "Nothing happened. He came back in time, and he couldn't have known those men would show up."

"For your sake, I will forgive him," the reikon said haughtily. His manner actually gave Yumichika a sense of relief, for it was indication of just how much spirit energy the reikon had regained. He seemed to be almost fully recovered. "He certainly excels in idiocy."

"Just a few weeks ago you were praising him for taking me away from Mito," Yumichika reminded him.

"Yes, and now I am blasting him for almost allowing a band of cutthroats to carry you off and sell you into slavery," came the heated reply. "Why are you defending him? He said he was going to protect you."

"But he did protect me. Nothing happened. Who are you to criticize him?" Yumichika chastised gently. "You're in here. He's out there."

The reikon drew back indignantly. "Are you comparing me to him? Are you forgetting that I am the one who saved your life? You didn't want to live after the attack in Mito. Madarame was nowhere to be found when that attack happened. He showed up afterwards, and even then, it was I who had to save you from giving in to despair—"

"Kimi," Yumichika interrupted, reaching out a hand. "I'm not blaming you. And I don't want you to blame Ikkaku."

The reikon did not take his hand but folded his arms stubbornly across his chest. "I put blame where it belongs. This whole incident was all Madarame's fault—"

Yumichika shook his head. "No, it wasn't his fault at all. It was mine." He paused and looked the reikon in the eye. "And yours."

"Mine?" The outrage reverberated through the maroon room.

"You haven't taught me how to control my power," Yumichika asserted. "And I haven't learned how to defend myself."

The reikon hesitated and returned his gaze with intensity. "What are you saying?"

"I'm ready to try," Yumichika replied.

"You know it's been your own bull-headed stubbornness that's stopped you from learning how to fight," the reikon snorted. "As for controlling your power, what should I do about that?"

"You can teach me – both things," Yumichika replied. "I know you can, so don't pretend you can't."

"Learning how to control your power means learning how to control me," the reikon said in a grave voice. "Do you think you can do that?"

"Yes," Yumichika replied with a slow nod.

"You're not afraid?"

"Should I be?" Yumichika replied.

"That's a good question," the reikon replied, seeming for a moment, to become scatterbrained and distracted. It was one of his most endearing characteristics – that he could not hold on to any negative emotion for more than a few seconds. His nature was mercurial, and so were his moods. He straightened up. "Very well, then. As soon as you're fully healed, we'll begin."

This time it was the reikon who held out his hand and pulled Yumichika to his feet. He drew him close and wrapped him in an embrace from head to toe.

The amount of energy suddenly pouring into Yumichika's body took his breath away. "What—what are you doing?" he gasped.

"Speeding things up," the reikon replied. "You've made me anxious."

"A-Anxious?"

Yumichika could sense an excitement so vast he could not take it all in.

The reikon's voice came from all around him. "Anxious for you to command me."

* * *

><p>"Yumichika?"<p>

It was Ikkaku's voice, interrupting a deep, much needed sleep. But he could not ignore him. That would be rude.

"Mm?" he mumbled.

"I've found a safe place. Do you want to get out?"

Yumichika pushed up onto his elbows and rolled over into a sitting position. He started to slide out, and Ikkaku reached in and helped him down.

"Can you walk?" he asked, keeping one arm around his waist.

"I need your help," Yumichika replied.

Ikkaku supported him over to a flat rock beside a small pool of dark, bubbling water.

Yumichika looked around. They were in a fair-sized cave in which several pools of water stood steaming in the fading daylight as it angled into the cave. From the quality of the light filtering in, Yumichika surmised it was twilight, and although the rain was still falling and dropping the temperature outside, inside the cave was warm from the heat of the thermals. Not only that but there was a stack of dry wood near the back of the cave, and from this Ikkaku had already started a fire in the center of a circle of rocks clearly arranged for sitting.

"Okay, let's get you in there—"

"In—there? In the water?"

"Yes. It'll do you some good."

"Is it safe here?" Yumichika asked. "It looks like travelers stop here. These springs must attract people, and look, there's wood stacked up—"

"I stacked that wood the last time I came through here," Ikkaku replied. "And I arranged these stones. Yeah, other people may come here, but I've never seen any. Now, stop worrying and let's get you in the water. There's a big ledge here where you can sit. Come on, I'll help you."

Once Yumichika was in the water, he discovered just how much he'd missed a hot bath all these weeks. He'd bathed in streams and rivers, the occasional field pond. But this was like heaven, if there were such a place.

"You just sit there and soak for a while," Ikkaku instructed. "I'm going to stoke this fire."

"So, you knew this was here," Yumichika stated.

"Yep."

"How far are we from where we met those men?" Yumichika asked.

"Oh, a couple kilometers, I guess. Maybe a little more. We're in the mountains now. I was going to take the road in the valley, but since I didn't see any snow on the mountains, I thought we could take that route instead," Ikkaku explained.

"A couple kilometers? And you pulled me and the cart uphill—"

"Yep, jerking all over the place, and you didn't stir once."

"That's true. I was out."

"It seems to have done you some good."

Yumichika nodded slightly. It had done him untold good, but in a way he could not explain to Ikkaku.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Well, it took about five hours to get here, so . . . five hours." He set more wood on the fire turning it from a smoldering smoke-maker into actual flames, then returned poolside with a ceramic jar of soap and some towels. "I think you can clean yourself."

"Yes, I can."

"Then I'm going to prepare something for dinner. Don't fall asleep and go sliding below the surface."

"I'll do my best."

An hour later, Yumichika was ready to get out of the pool. He had, in fact, finished bathing much sooner, but the heat felt so wonderful that he'd been loath to quit the comfort of the ledge. However, dinner was ready, and Ikkaku was insistent that Yumichika come sit close to the fire as night fell.

As they ate, Ikkaku marveled silently as Yumichika's inexplicably improved mood. It seemed to him that Yumichika could not be kept down, that somewhere inside, he possessed a well stream of both mental and emotional resilience that was nothing short of miraculous.

And yet, there was something bothering Ikkaku that he simply could not put to rest.

"I've been meaning to ask you something, Yumichika," he began, keeping his eyes on his plate. He took a mouthful of plain rice. "But I don't want to upset you."

"Go on," Yumichika invited.

"You always act strange when I talk about how it would be if you were ugly," Ikkaku began. "You get angry if I even suggest it." He looked up finally. "Why?"

The dim glow of the embers cast Yumichika in hues of orange and red, a gentle expression on his face. He might have been more beautiful than Ikkaku had ever seen him, even with the marks still visible on his skin.

"It was a reflex reaction," Yumichika replied.

"But why?"

"My mother always used to say, 'If the soul is ugly, it doesn't matter how beautiful the body is. Only one lasts forever'."

"Nice thought."

Yumichika spoke tentatively. "She used to say it to comfort me."

"To comfort you? Why?"

Yumichika looked into the flames. "If you'd seen me in the living world, Ikkaku, you wouldn't recognize me. I'd even say that you'd—you'd have been repulsed like everyone else."

Ikkaku's silence invited him to go on.

"You see . . . my mother got very sick when she was pregnant with me. They were afraid she was going to die. The doctors and all her friends tried to convince her to . . . to end her pregnancy, but she wouldn't. She didn't believe in that sort of thing. And when I was born, there were a lot of things wrong with me. I had a lot of . . . deformities and my body was very weak. And they told her again that she should just . . . let me die. But she loved me, and she didn't care about the things that were wrong with me. As I got older, I started to understand that I was . . . ugly. The other kids were either afraid of me or they made fun of me. It hurt, and so I . . . I never left the estate. Instead, I would work with my mother, growing things in the garden or making clothes for the poor people in the outlying villages. I learned about herbs and a little medicine and took care of sick animals. My father taught me how to make furniture and how to paint. My brothers and sister used to play games with me, and they were always careful not to hurt me. My family . . . they were the only ones who loved me, the only ones who didn't look at me with . . . " He couldn't finish. "My mother used to tell me that it didn't matter what was on the outside, that I had a beautiful soul. My father used to say the same thing, that my soul was the most beautiful he had ever known. They made me feel like I . . . like I was worth something when everyone else just saw me as a burden. Then when I was nineteen, all my physical problems finally caught up with me, and I became very sick. They couldn't save me."

He paused and drew in a deep breath to steady his voice.

"When I died, I was terrified. I didn't want to go to Soul Society. I didn't want to leave my family. They were the only ones who had ever cared about me, who weren't afraid or horrified of me. I was afraid if I went to Soul Society, there would be no one to care about me, that everyone would make fun of me again. So, I didn't go. I stayed with my family, and I could see how much my death had hurt them. They were so sad, and . . . I wanted to let them know I was still there and all my pain was gone. I couldn't leave them, and I didn't want to. But then a hollow found me and started to stalk me. I didn't know it was a hollow at the time. To me, it was just a monster, and I spent a long time running and hiding from it. It kept me from going near my family, and I . . . I became angry and despairing and desperate. I started to hate my family because they couldn't help me. I didn't want to hate them, but I couldn't stop myself.

"And then one day, I had the sense that someone else was hunting me, and I was afraid so I hid under a bridge on the edge of my family's estate . . . and this woman appeared. She was dressed like a soul reaper, and she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen."

_"Won't you come out? I won't hurt you. I'm here to help you."_

"But I wouldn't come out. I stayed hidden in the shadows where she couldn't see me. I was afraid if she saw me, she wouldn't want anything to do with me. But when I looked at her, it was like . . . looking at the sun."

_"Why are you hiding?"_

_"I—I'm afraid it will find me."_

_"You've been running from a hollow, haven't you? I've been tracking it for the past few weeks. But I didn't know who it was after."_

_"I want it to go away."_

"She held out her hand, and there was such kindness, such sweetness in her face."

_"You don't have to be afraid. I'm here to take you to Soul Society. The hollow won't be able to follow you there."_

_"I don't want to go."_

_"Why not? You'll be safe there, and it's a nice place."_

_"They'll hate me when they see me. No one will want me."_

_"They won't hate you. Why would you say that? Come, take my hand. Come out and I promise I won't hate you."_

"The only way I could make her understand would be to show myself to her, so I took her hand and went out into the light. She was even more beautiful up close, and . . . and the way she was looking at me . . . she wasn't afraid or disgusted."

_"There, you see. I don't hate you. Why would you think people will hate you?"_

_"Because I—I'm ugly."_

"She was looking at me very strangely, as if I were speaking a language she didn't even understand. Then she held my hand tighter."

_"Come with me. I want to show you something." _

"She took me out into the sunlight. It was winter, and the air was cold, but the sun was out and it was a very bright day. She took out her zanpakuto and said some kind of incantation. Her sword dissolved into the air and it . . . it reflected the light. She told me to look into the reflection, and . . . I had never seen the person looking back at me, but I knew him so well."

_"It's . . . it's me . . . . how can that be?"_

_"This is your soul," _she said_. "I don't know what your physical body looked like, but this is what your soul looks like." _She looked right into my eyes_. "You're the most beautiful soul I've ever seen. And you don't belong here in sorrow. You'll become a hollow yourself if you stay here. Come to Soul Society."_

_"But my family—"_

_"They wouldn't want you to be running from hollows and hiding under bridges. They wouldn't want to see you so sad. If they're sad, it's because they know you're sad."_

"But I still wasn't convinced."

_"But what if no one wants me? I always only lived with just a few people. I don't know how to—I don't know if I can be around anyone else."_

_"I'll take care of that. Instead of performing a konso and sending you back with a hell butterfly, I'll take you myself."_

"She took me to see my family once more, then she brought me to Soul Society, to the meadow above Paikuu. She knew that I needed a quiet, safe place to settle in and get used to being in a new world. And even though I haven't seen her since, she was right. I was happy when I came to Soul Society." Yumichika smiled into the flames. "I owed it all to her. If she hadn't found me, I would have become a hollow."

Ikkaku looked on in amazement. He could not have imagined a more incredible story if he'd tried, and it only made Yumichika seem more rare and perfect in his eyes.

And yet in brought into glaring clarity the difference in their lives.

Yumichika had been born, weak and hideous, into a wealthy family. And despite his handicaps, his family had adored and cherished and loved him. That love had been enough to create a soul beautiful beyond words; but a soul so innocent that, left to fend for itself, it had succumbed to vanity and wickedness.

Ikkaku, on the other hand, had been born into no family, the child of a professional mistress and another woman's husband. He'd been gifted with startling good looks and a fine, muscular build; and yet he was welcome in no one's home. He'd been shunned and rejected by those who should have loved him the most.

But while Yumichika had been willing to tell his story, Ikkaku was not ready to tell his. The hurt was still too deep. There was no happy ending to his story – unless he carried it clear out to meeting Yumichika, and that would be too much sap for Ikkaku to bear.

"I understand now," he said at last. "I see why it hurt you when I said those things. I had no idea, Yumichika. I'm sorry."

"You didn't know," Yumichika replied. "And I guess . . . being ugly in the living world was actually a good thing, because it saved my soul." He frowned. "Only, after a while here in Soul Society, all my goodness got covered over because I was so in love with myself."

"I never would have guessed any of that," Ikkaku added.

Yumichika raised an eyebrow. "You recognized my ego immediately-"

"No, no, I mean, I never would have guessed at what you-at what your life was like in the world of the living," Ikkaku corrected.

"I should have told you sooner, but . . . I was embarrassed," Yumichika said, looking away for a moment.

"Idiot," Ikkaku chastised. "You have no reason to be embarrassed."

"You're not angry?"

Ikkaku shook his head. "I'm angry that I haven't been better to you," he said.

"Now, who's the idiot?" Yumichika smirked. "I couldn't have asked for a better friend."

That was enough sentiment for one day. Ikkaku got to his feet. "Do you want any more tea? It's getting late, and I think you should get some sleep."

Yumichika smiled. "One more cup."


	11. Chapter 11

_**Dear Reader, a quick note. The whole area around the village of Venla is modeled after the area of the Tiroler and Bavarian Alps. The Alps are "meine heimat" by adoption; so , as you are reading, I hope the picture being painted is that of "mea patria montana" (Latin for "my mountainous homeland). And since we know Tite Kubo likes to use foreign languages in Bleach, I included a gratuitous German word in the chapter. Thank you.**_

* * *

><p>Chapter 11 Venla<p>

_Here, there's lots of room for doing  
><em>_the things you've always been denied.  
><em>_So, look and gather all you want to.  
><em>_There's no one here to stop you trying._

_Watching and Waiting  
><em>John Lodge

* * *

><p>It was time to try.<p>

If he waited much longer, he might forget everything he knew about how to walk.

His strength had returned to a point where he could attempt it, and he was growing tired of being a passenger.

Now, he just had to elude Ikkaku's attention for a minute or two, for Ikkaku was still opposed to Yumichika exerting himself in any way.

They had encamped close to a small rivulet overnight and bathed in the frigid water that morning before breakfast. Now, having finished breakfast and reloaded the cart, Yumichika was feeling refreshed and stronger than he had since setting out.

He hated being deceptive, but it was for a good reason.

"I think I left my obi down at the stream," he lied. "Can you go look?"

Ikkaku made a sound of exasperation, but he turned and walked to the stream and started looking.

The instant Ikkaku had turned his back, Yumichika pulled himself to his feet, using the edge of the cart to draw himself up. He tried out a few steps, bracing himself against the side, then with a steady breath, took a step away, then another. He was stiff and sore – but there was no pain.

A smile lit up his face, and he took another handful of steps, holding his arms out for balance.

At the stream, Ikkaku was turning up nothing. "If you left it here, it must have been washed away by the—" He turned and his voice fell off.

Contrary to what Yumichika had expected – and what Ikkaku would have expected of himself, he was not angry. The sight of Yumichika walking gave him both joy and relief. It was another outward sign of internal improvement. He walked slowly back towards the cart.

Yumichika turned to regard him with excitement.

"You're walking." Ikkaku stated the obvious.

Yumichika replied with a laugh.

"That's good," Ikkaku nodded. "That's . . . really good, Yumichika."

"It feels good," Yumichika replied, taking several more cautious steps.

"Don't overdo it," Ikkaku warned.

"I won't," Yumichika assured him, turning back. "In fact, I think that's enough for now."

"Can you get back on your own?"

Yumichika nodded. "Yes."

Ikkaku watched him with satisfaction. "I didn't find your obi," he said.

"Oh, that's okay," Yumichika replied.

"You didn't really lose it, did you?" Ikkaku challenged with a grin.

"Uh . . . that depends," Yumichika answered. "Would you be mad?"

"No," Ikkaku replied.

"Then, no, I didn't lose it. I just needed to distract you long enough for me to try walking," Yumichika explained. "I knew you wouldn't let me try otherwise."

Ikkaku shrugged. "Yeah, you're right," he conceded.

"So, now, I can get out and walk from time to time and build up my strength again," Yumichika said, almost as a suggestion.

"Okay, but as long as you don't push yourself too hard," Ikkaku stressed. "We don't want a relapse."

Yumichika smiled. "I give you my word: I 'll take it slow."

* * *

><p>Yumichika was good to word over the next two weeks as they continued up the mountain, finding snow at the highest levels, and therefore choosing a longer but lower route to get to the other side.<p>

He got out and walked several times a day, each time a little bit longer, a little further. To accommodate him, their paced had slowed considerably, but it was worth it to see him on his feet, the cheerfulness of his manner increasing as a result.

For Ikkaku, he had to admit that it was nothing short of miraculous. Yes, it had taken Yumichika a long time to heal, but the fact was that he shouldn't even be alive. Such a brutal attack should have killed him, but it didn't. On top of that, a full recovery had seemed out of the question. And yet, that was what Ikkaku was witnessing.

And then one morning, Ikkaku woke up to the greatest surprise of all.

Yumichika had started, at least a week earlier, getting up before Ikkaku and preparing breakfast. This morning, when Ikkaku settled down next to the fire and Yumichika brought the meal, he noticed immediately that something had changed.

"Your face . . . "

Yumichika, setting down the bowls, reached up and touched his cheeks. The skin was smooth.

"They're gone," Ikkaku said, sounding stunned.

Yumichika forgot all about breakfast. He ran to the cart and rummaged for the mirror. He held it in front of him, and a shout of joy burst from his lips. The scars were gone, as if he had never even been injured. The reikan had done it. He had healed him and restored his beauty.

Yumichika twirled and did a funny little impromptu dance, so overcome with excitement was he. His movements brought him back to Ikkaku.

"Look at me! Look at me! I'm beautiful again!" he cried out, laughing and dancing.

Ikkaku wanted to tell him that he'd never stopped being beautiful, that he had something inside him that was more beautiful than anything on the outside. But that wasn't Ikkaku's way. He would never give voice to such overt displays of sentimental mush.

Instead, he said in a gruff voice, "Okay, okay. Can you settle your beautiful self down and finish serving breakfast?"

Yumichika beamed from ear to ear. "Of course, but just one more look first." He returned to the mirror for another long, admiring gaze, then under his breath, he spoke. "You did it. I knew you could do it. I don't know how to thank you."

Ikkaku, hearing him, felt a twinge of uneasiness taint the gratefulness that was his overriding sentiment. He still had not forgotten the disappearance of Yumichika's injuries that morning in Mito over a year ago. Since then, he had heard Yumichika make one or two such comments as he had just heard, as if he were speaking to someone that only he could see. It was peculiar, and Ikkaku was doing his best to convince himself that it was just Yumichika talking to himself. He did not want to entertain any other possibilities.

* * *

><p>"It's wonderful! I can't believe it! It's amazing!" Yumichika's voice was brimming with delight.<p>

The reikon found it beguiling.

Yumichika went on. "You really were able to do it. You made it as if nothing had ever happened."

"I told you I would," came the reply.

Yumichika dropped to his knees beside him on the bed. "How do you have the power to heal?"

"It's not my power. It's-"

"It's mine. Yes, yes, I know. You say puzzling things like that all the time, but it doesn't help me understand. I want to know why you exist and what your powers are." Yumichika's enthusiasm made him impatient.

The reikon's voice contained a hint of challenge. "That is something we will have to discover together. There are many things I don't know until they happen. I didn't know what I would look like. I didn't know that my touch could heal you until the moment I placed my hands on you that very first day all those months ago. I didn't know about any of the parts of this world until I saw them."

"I want Ikkaku to meet you," Yumichika said directly with a gleam in his eye. "He loves power and strength, and you have both. I know he'd want to meet you."

"I don't know how that's possible," the reikon replied. "I exist in here. He exists out there. He can't come in, and I can't go out."

Yumichika reached out and tugged at the shimmering coverings on the reikon's arm. "That's not really true, you know. You've been able to bring this world into the outside world . . . you did it that day in the meadow above Paikuu. You've done it a couple times since then."

The reikon considered. "Yes, you're right. But I don't know how I did it. I only ever do what you want me to do-"

Yumichika burst out laughing. "Now, that is definitely not true! You have a mind of your own and a tendency to use it."

The halo of light surrounding the reikon glowed with a more intense azure hue. "Would you want me any other way?" he asked, his words dripping with enticement.

"I would want you no matter what," Yumichika replied. He was speaking truthfully. He had come to a point where he could not imagine life without the enigmatic being who was with him every moment of every day.

"Then work on a way for me to leave this world," the reikon said. "Find a way, and you will be able to show me to Madarame."

"What about finding a way for him to come in here?" Yumichika suggested.

"Ugh! Absolutely not, kimi-san!" the reikon protested. "Here, all is pristine and beautiful. I would not have him sully even the air with his breathing."

Yumichika laughed again and drew up beside him. "And I thought I was the master."

* * *

><p>Ikkaku and Yumichika continued on for three more days under bright sunshine and comfortable temperatures. Ikkaku even allowed Yumichika to assist him in pulling the cart over a few of the easier stretches.<p>

In the early afternoon of the second day, they came down through a narrow juncture between two mountains, coming to a wide flood plain. On the northern end of the plain at the foot of a precipitous mountainside stood a picturesque village. They headed towards it.

Right away, Yumichika noticed that something about the village was different. Different architecture. The layout of the streets. The people, all of whom wore open, friendly smiles on their faces and greeted the pair with a sense of neighborly kindness that was not usually extended to strangers.

Yumichika had already decided that it was, quite simply, the most beautiful little village he had ever seen when they encountered a man in the street whose face took on the look of recognition as they drew near.

"Madarame-san! You've come back for a visit!" he chirped, reaching out to clasp Ikkaku's hand in a form a greeting very different from the formal bow that was the custom in the lands on the south side of the mountains. "And you've brought company, as well."

"Obrecht-san," Ikkaku returned the greeting awkwardly. "This is Ayasegawa-san. Yumichika, this is Obrecht-san. He owns the village pub."

"_One_ of the pubs," Obrecht corrected. "You just happened to like mine best. Ayasegawa-san, it's nice to meet you."

He extended his hand, and Yumichika returned the gesture, liking the feel of a handshake.

"Will you be staying a while?" Obrecht asked.

"That all depends on Yumichika," Ikkaku replied. "He's the decision-maker."

Yumichika raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's putting me on the spot." However, he had already decided he liked the place well enough to stay for a day or two at least, and he stated as much.

"Excellent. Then you can stay at my inn," Obrecht offered. "You'll get the best food and the most comfortable rooms around, and the price is reasonable. Plus, the pub is right next door."

Ikkaku looked at Yumichika. "It's up to you."

"Uh, what _is_ the price?" Yumichika asked.

"One copper a night for the both of you, if you use one room," Obrecht replied.

"Can we see the room first?" Yumichika asked.

"Yumichika!" Ikkaku nudged him with his elbow.

"You said it was up to me!" Yumichika said defensively, at which Obrecht laughed.

"Of course, you can. This way. You can take a bit of a rest and wash all that dust off. My wife can bring you up something to eat, if you're hungry. The pub won't be opening for another two hours, but I can bring you up a couple hefeweissens." Obrecht talked on as they walked towards the inn, and Yumichika was engrossed in his every word.

Ikkaku, having heard most of it already, only paid attention to the new tidbits: the flood a few weeks ago that hadn't been as bad as it could have been (Ikkaku figured this was the rain storm that had forced them to go over the mountain as opposed to through the valley); the spring plantings that were underway and the planned festivities that accompanied them; and an interesting tale about a strange giant of a man traveling with a little girl who had passed through about a month ago. He'd spoken not a word, but all the villagers knew instinctively to stay away from him. The little girl had done whatever talking needed to be done. She'd managed to procure some food, a couple blankets, and even a jug of what the villagers called _malted, _and then the two had gone on their way. It piqued Ikkaku's interest for the few seconds it took to relate the story; but then they arrived at the inn, and Ikkaku's focused turned to the business at hand.

As it turned out, Yumichika was well-pleased with the room selection and the matronly attentiveness of Mrs Obrecht. He quickly decided on a quiet room in the back of the inn, away from the sounds of the street and what would eventually be the sounds of the pub.

"I'll show you where you can put your cart," Obrecht stated, as they headed back up to the front of the inn. "Are you hungry?"

Yumichika and Ikkaku both answered with an emphatic yes.

"Will you be wanting hot or cold fare?" Mrs Obrecht asked.

Yumichika smiled. "A bit of both, I imagine. Ikkaku and I have ravenous appetites."

"Oh, I'm well aware of that," Mrs Obrect said appreciatively. "I remember the last time Madarame-san was here. He nearly ate us out of business. Ah, but I could have guessed that you had appetites just from your riatsu."

"Our riatsu? Really?" Yumichika sounded surprised. "You could sense that?"

"Oh yes. I love customers with lots of riatsu. That means big appetites and good sales," she grinned. "I'll bring something back shortly." With that, she parted company and headed for the kitchen.

Obrecht then showed them where they could store the cart before going in to help his wife.

Once they were alone and unloading a few items from the cart, Yumichika said, "So, you've been here before."

"The last time I left Mito I came this way and stayed here a few days," Ikkaku explained. "I thought it would be a good place to head to."

"You told me you didn't have any idea where we were going," Yumichika reminded him with a smirk.

"I lied," Ikkaku replied. "Well, sort of. I didn't know until a few days after crossing the Ulandsee. And then, I didn't want to get your hopes up until I saw if we were welcome."

"Well, it certainly appears that we're welcome." Yumichika paused. "But she said something that surprised me a bit."

"What was that?"

"She said she could feel our riatsu," Yumichika replied. "Do you think she could feel mine?"

"Of course, why not?" Ikkaku asked.

"Well, I've always known how powerful your riatsu is, but mine . . . I didn't think anyone else could really feel it," Yumichika said, sounding perplexed.

Ikkaku looked at him with a sort of subdued disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"

He could see Yumichika was not kidding.

"You know I've been feeling it ever since I met you," Ikkaku stated.

"Well, yes, but I just thought you were different, that the reason you could feel mine was because your own was so powerful, maybe you were more attuned to other souls' raitsu," Yumichika explained.

"Yumichika, your riatsu blows mine away." Seeing the blank look on Yumichika's face, he suddenly realized what was going on. "You can't feel your riatsu at all, can you?"

"I—I'm not sure," Yumichika replied. "I feel something, but I don't know what it is. I've been told I have a powerful riatsu, but I didn't believe—"

"Who told you that?"

Yumichika faltered. He'd not meant to allude to anything the reikon had told him, and now he had to find a way out.

"Well, you've told me you can feel it, and . . . some of the people back in Mito," he answered nonchalantly. "I thought they were flattering me."

"They probably were, but that doesn't mean they weren't telling the truth," Ikkaku said. "You've definitely got a very . . . distinct riatsu. It's unusual. I've never felt one like it. And it's grown much stronger since I met you. I think your . . . ability flows from it."

"Really?" Yumichika said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, really," Ikkaku replied. "Your riatsu is . . . uh, very sensual, Yumichika. And like I told you before, unless you learn how to control it, you're going to keep attracting trouble. As it's gotten stronger, it's gotten more . . . " He looked down with red cheeks. "It's gotten more . . . "

"More what?"

"Erotic." Ikkaku could barely say the word.

Yumichika paled. "Erotic? But I can't even feel my own riatsu! How am I supposed to control something I can't—" He cut himself off abruptly, recalling the reikon's instruction to him.

_"Controlling your ability means controlling me."_

It seemed like an impossible challenge. The reikon was so powerful, so beautiful, so irresistible. What chance did Yumichika have of gaining control over him? Yes, he'd told the reikon he was ready, and he'd believed it at the time.

Now, he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure he could control a riatsu so overwhelming.

"You're going to have to find a way," Ikkaku said, almost as if reading Yumichika's thoughts.

"So . . . can you feel your own riatsu?" Yumichika asked.

"Of course, I can," Ikkaku replied.

"Can you control it?"

"To a degree. But mine isn't as dangerous as yours. Mine is just raw energy—"

Yumichika interrupted. "And very angry and volatile—"

"So, that makes me a good fighter and it wards off enemies," Ikkaku put forth proudly.

"It makes you bitter and violent," Yumichika corrected.

"We're not talking about me," Ikkaku redirected the conversation. "We're talking about you and your riatsu. Your riatsu is dangerous because, as I've told you before, it draws people to you, and when they can't have you, they're willing to take you by force. And you're not prepared to defend against them."

Yumichika sighed heavily. "It always comes back to that, doesn't it? All you really care about is me learning how to fight."

"I didn't say anything about you learning how to fight," Ikkaku replied. "I just said you weren't prepared to defend against them. You're a man, Yumichika. And a man should be able to defend himself."

* * *

><p>"He's right, you know. A man should be able to defend himself." The reikon's spoke as if it were an indisputable truth.<p>

He and Yumichika were in the cave of the peacocks, sitting at the edge of the lake, marveling at how its mirror-like surface showed almost imperceptible ripples whenever one of the birds called out from the unseen reaches of the cliffs above.

Yumichika only shrugged. "I've already told you I want to learn how to defend myself, so it's a mute point. You just need to teach me now."

"Mm-hm," the reikan smirked. "To defend yourself with a sword?"

"I won't need a sword if I learn how to control you," Yumichika replied.

"Madarame is talking about learning how to fight, kimi-san," came the reply. "Not how to use my powers to avoid fighting."

"So? Either way, I'll be defending myself."

"True, but he does have a point. You must learn how to fight."

Yumichika groaned in exasperation. "Not you, too. You know, I don't understand you. One minute, you're agreeing with him. The next, you're calling him an idiot. You're the most fickle person I've ever met!"

"Person? I'm not a person!" The reikon was a master of manufactured dramatics. "You're just trying to insult me now."

Yumichika could hear the teasing in his words. The reikon wanted to play, but Yumichika was not in the mood for games. "The point is that you can't make up your mind about Ikkaku, and it's driving me crazy."

"There's nothing complicated about it," the reikon replied. "I agree with him when he's right and I call him an idiot when he's wrong. It's simple."

"Well, it bothers me," Yumichika snapped. "I know you don't like him—"

"We have been through all of this before," the reikon cut him off. "But that's not why you came to me tonight. I can tell that something is bothering you. What is it?"

Yumichika considered. At last, he said, "I can't feel my own riatsu."

The reikon was taken aback. "That's what's bothering you?"

"You make it sound like it's no big deal" Yumichika said, perturbed. "But I think it's wrong that everyone else can feel my riatsu, and I can't. I can feel others' riatu, but not my own."

The reikon looked at him in wonderment. "I knew you were naive, but I didn't realize just how much."

"Stop calling me that," Yumichika insisted.

"It's true," the reikon replied evenly. "You don't even recognize your own riatsu."

Yumichika lay back and rubbed his hands over his eyes. After several seconds of silence, he felt a warm surge of energy over his face, arousing his senses. Opening his eyes, he saw the reikon standing above him, his arm outstretched towards him.

"You felt _that_, didn't you?"

"Of course," Yumichika replied. "I can always feel your riatsu."

"It's your riatsu," the reikon corrected.

"You've told me that before, but how can it be? The second I leave this world, I can't feel it anymore."

Now, it was the reikon's turn to be exasperated. "That's because it's as natural to you as breathing. You aren't as conscious of it as others are because it's part of your soul, whereas for them, it's something completely alien. It's not like the riatsu of others, that they've had to build up and cultivate. It's inherent to who you are, and it's at work all the time."

"At work?"

"Your riatsu never stops," the reikon explained. "You only feel it here, because my presence amplifies it. But for everyone else, they feel it always. Once I teach you how to control it, all that will change. You will be able to mask your riatsu. But first, you must recognize what your riatsu is. And here I must once again give Madarame credit, for he pinpointed it." He drew close, and Yumichika felt that overwhelming attraction to him. "Your riatsu is seduction."

"Seduction?" Yumichika sounded apprehensive.

"Are you going to pretend now that you're surprised?" the reikon challenged. "You've been knowingly seducing people for years here in Soul Society. And unknowingly just as often."

Yumichika flushed crimson.

"You see, you _do_ know what I am talking about." The reikon paused. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, if done properly and for the right reasons."

"But all those things I did were for the wrong reasons—"

"True, but those days are over," the reikon asserted. "Didn't you tell Madarame, when you left Mito, that it was the start of a new life?"

"Yes."

"And so it is." The reikon paused. "The only question remaining is, are you truly ready to start over?"

"I am," Yumichika insisted.

The reikon tilted his head to one side. "We shall see."

* * *

><p>"It's a perfect morning out there," Yumichika announced, and his face was glowing with such effulgence that it almost seemed, to Ikkaku, to increase the light in the room.<p>

"What time is it?" he grumbled.

"Almost nine," Yumichika replied. "You're sleeping late today."

Ikkaku sat up with a stretch and vocal yawn. "It feels good to sleep in a bed finally."

"Yes, it was very comfortable," Yumichika agreed.

"Did you already eat breakfast?" Ikkaku asked.

"Yes. Should I order something for you?"

"That's a stupid question," came the gruff answer.

But Yumichika could not be deflated. "Lots of everything?"

Ikkaku nodded with an affirmative grunt, and Yumichika was off to find Mrs Obrecht.

Ikkaku got up and washed quickly. His mind was already fully engaged. He was about to take a big chance – and if things went as he predicted, it would mean a huge sacrifice.

For him.

And he wasn't sure he had the selflessness to do it, but he would let the moment decide.

When Yumichika returned, he was carrying a tray piled high with breakfast foods prepared by the innkeeper's wife. As Ikkaku ate, Yumichika related to him the trail of his wanderings that morning.

"There's a tailor, but no finery shop," Yumichika recounted enthusiastically. "I stopped in the bakery, and he had a selection better than anything in Mito. They have two metalsmiths, and—" Watching Ikkaku shovel the food in, he added, "And plenty of fruit and vegetable mongers. Honestly, Ikkaku, you'd think you hadn't eaten in days."

"I need my strength," Ikkaku replied without looking up. "It's hard going over those mountains."

"Yes, but that's behind us now—"

"Behind us? What did you see on the other side of this village? Those are mountains, too," Ikkaku replied.

Yumichika was stunned into silence, but only for a moment. "But I—I thought we'd stay here."

"When did I say that?"

"You said it was my decision, You said you wanted to wait and see if we were welcome," Yumichika replied, his manner calm despite what he was feeling inside. "And they've welcomed us."

"I don't think it's the best idea," Ikkaku replied flatly.

"But why?" Yumichika asked, his voice rising.

"Just a gut feeling I have," Ikkaku answered, shoveling in another forkful of some grainy dish that he'd never had before.

"But I thought you liked it here," Yumichika persisted. "That's why you brought me here, isn't it?"

"I brought you here because I knew it would be safe. I didn't intend for it to be our final destination," Ikkaku replied around the food in his mouth. "It was just a place to stop enroute."

Yumichika's face fell. "So, it wasn't really my decision whether we stay or not."

"Hey, if you want to stay, just say so and we'll stay. I just think it's not the best place for you," Ikkaku shrugged. "But it's up to you."

Yumichika was silent for a long time. At last, when he spoke, it was with utter dejection.

"If you think we should keep going, that's what we'll do."

It was exactly as Ikkaku had predicted. Yumichika had deferred to him. "Good. We'll leave as soon as I'm finished eating. Make sure everything we took off the cart is loaded back up."

Yumichika got to his feet. "We didn't bring much in." Then he added in a forlorn voice, "I guess deep down we both knew we wouldn't be staying." He started gathering the items they had brought inside.

Ikkaku could not help but feel guilty. Still, he was doing the right thing, and that certainty gave him the will to press ahead with his plan.

Within thirty minutes, they had said their goodbyes to the Obrechts and were on their way out of the village, following the stream past a watermill and then picking up the narrow trail that snaked up the mountain that bordered the village to the northwest.

Yumichika was silent and disconsolate from the outset. Ikkaku did not attempt to lighten his mood. After nearly two hours of a slow uphill trudge, Ikkaku steered the cart off onto a much smaller path into the woods.

"Why are we going this way?" Yumichika asked. "It's not a very good path."

"It's faster," Ikkaku replied.

Yumichika had no heart for arguing with him, and so he trudged along beside Ikkaku, barely noticing the peacefulness and beauty around him.

Two hundred yards along the path, they came upon a sun-drenched glade, and here Yumichika stopped in his tracks.

Ikkaku glanced at him and saw the look of enchantment that had suddenly appeared on his face.

Yumichika took several slow, measured steps further into the ankle-high spring grass, looking around him as if he were dreaming. A smile spread slowly across his face.

"Ikkaku . . . this—this is just like the meadow above Paikuu," he said in an entranced, joy-filled voice.

Ikkaku feigned indifference. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"I can't—I can't—it's beautiful." Yumichika turned to take in a full circle view. He threw his arms up in excitement. "It's even more beautiful than Paikuu!" In the next moment he was off like a hare, running haphazardly from one spot to the next, trying to take in every scene from every angle, indulging sensation after sensation, feeling as if he might break into joyful tears any moment But instead, his eye caught the sight of a crumbled stone ruin at the far edge of the upper slope. He ran towards it with such vigor that it would have been impossible to even guess that only weeks ago, he had been barely able to walk.

Ikkaku watched as Yumichika disappeared through the doorway and then allowed himself a rare smile of contentment at his achievement. He had given Yumichika something that truly had the power to make him happy – a scene that evoked fond memories. He took several minutes to stroll about the meadow, taking in the towering mountains to the north and down into the valley from which they had just come to the south. It really was a beautiful place. Tranquil and secluded. And it wasn't far from the village – a village so different from Mito.

"Yes," he said aloud. "This suits him perfectly." He walked to the ruins and finding them empty, stepped outside. Yumichika was nowhere in sight. He went around to the back of the structure, and there he could just barely hear the sound of Yumichika's laughter.

"Yumichika!" he called out.

"Down here! By the stream!" Yumichika shouted back.

Ikkaku headed down the wooded slope about forty yards, and as he drew nearer, he could hear the sound of running water. He found Yumichika hunkered down beside a small mountain stream dropping in low cascades and alternating pools towards the valley below.

Before Ikkaku could even speak, Yumichika stood and turn to face him, a brilliance radiating from his face.

"Isn't it perfect?" he enthused. "Don't you think it's perfect?"

Ikkaku knew what was coming. "Yeah."

Yumichika took hold of his wrist and stared earnestly into his eyes. "Do you think—could we—could we stay here? We could repair that house, and the village is nearby, and it's so peaceful here, and you—you like it, don't you? Ikkaku?"

So, here it was. It was precisely what Ikkaku had planned; but now that the decision was upon him, did he have the courage to stand by what he earlier decided? Was he ready to give up a part of his own life, his own character, to stay in a place like this, so serene and removed from any action?

He did not have to consider for long. If it meant Yumichika would be safe and happy, there was no question.

"Yes, we can stay," he replied. It was easier than he'd thought it would be. He was surprised when Yumichika threw his arms around him in an overjoyed hug. He returned the gesture with an uncomfortable pat on the back, then was even more surprised when Yumichika drew back and regarded him with suspicion.

"You knew this was here all along, didn't you?" he asked. "When you said thje village wouldn't be the best decision, it's because you knew this was here."

Ikkaku was silent.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Yumichika pressed. "Then I wouldn't have been so downcast."

"I needed to make sure that you trusted me," Ikkaku replied.

Yumichika looked puzzled. "That I trusted you? How could you even doubt that?"

"Because I haven't always done the right thing by you before, Yumichika," Ikkaku replied. "And I had to make sure you trusted my judgment, because . . . well, let's be honest. It's not going to be easy here."

"That's alright," Yumichika brushed the concern aside.

"It's going to be a lot of work," he warned.

Yumichika was not deflated. "That's okay. I like to work."

"It'll be cold in the winter," Ikkaku went on.

"It'll be warm inside the house," Yumichika countered.

"No luxuries—"

"I can turn anyplace into a thing of beauty, you know that!" The excitement was pouring out with Yumichika's every word.

"You're sure about this? You really want to live here?"

Yumichika nodded. "Yes," he said. "It . . . feels right."

Ikkaku allowed himself a self-satisfied grin. "I thought you'd like it."

"Ikkaku . . ."

"Don't get emotional, Yumichika," Ikkaku scolded him. "I hate it when you get emotional."

Yumichika corralled his wits and set his shoulders. "Very well, then. Why don't we get started? Like you said . . . there's a lot of work to do."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 19 The Form and the Name

_"High above the forests  
>lie the pastures of the sun<br>where the two that learn the secret  
>now are one."<em>

_You Can Never Go Home  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p>Summer and Fall passed quickly on the mountain. Winter came on hard and cold, just as Ikkaku had predicted.<p>

It also came suddenly, the sun setting on a cold afternoon one day in mid-December and rising the next morning on a white landscape that sparkled in the winter light.

Yumichika had never seen so much snow, and it thrilled him like a child receiving a birthday present. Even more amazing was the fact that the novelty did not wear off even after weeks of snow upon snow.

The stone dwelling that he and Ikkaku had rebuilt during the long hours of summer sunlight was sturdy and well-insulated with a combination of mud-plaster mixed with dried grass, and over that, wooden paneling brightly painted and accented with images of birds and woodland creatures.

Ikkaku had to hand it to Yumichika – the man knew how to handle a paintbrush and was talented at putting his eye for beauty into actual use.

Yumichika had said he could turn the place into a home, and he had not been exaggerating. Through his industriousness and Ikkaku's brute strength, they had transformed the dwelling into something every bit as beautiful as the machiya in Mito. It was considerably smaller, but that turned out not to be a bad thing as the chill of winter fell, yet inside, it was warm and comfortable.

Yumichika had started work on the overgrown garden, and Ikkaku had cleared a path down to the mountain stream, layering some stone steps to even out some of the steeper parts. They had even begun construction on a smaller version of the washporch left behind in Mito, but its completion would have to wait until the spring and warmer weather.

At least once a week, sometimes more often, they ventured down into Venla where Yumichika had found a viable market for his wares.

And every visit reaffirmed in Ikkaku's mind, the rightness of his decision to settle here.

In so many ways, Venla was the complete opposite of Mito. The villagers were affable and, if Ikkaku were any judge, free of pretense. He detected none of the lurid hunger from these people whenever Yumichika passed among them. For certain, they recognized and were struck by Yumichika's beauty, for Ikkaku had heard them make mention of it; but they treated him in a completely different way than the villagers in Mito had.

That might have been because Yumichika comported himself differently, as well. Where the villagers were concerned, he presented himself as a humble and somewhat shy merchant, which won over everyone with whom he came in contact.

It wasn't a false representation. Ikkaku knew better. Events had changed Yumichika; and although when it was just the two of them, Yumichika continued to show the vestiges of his vanity and narcissism; for the most part, he was reserved and easy. Still, Ikkaku knew how to get a rise out of him; and from time to time, he purposefully provoked him just for the sake of fun, for he missed the friendly contention that had marked their relationship from the beginning.

And Yumichika, when prodded, did not fail to provide the sought-after reaction, even to the point of some physical engagements. His body had completely healed shortly after the leaves in the valley had started to turn color. There was no physical indication that he had ever been injured. Ikkaku privately maintained his sense of wonder at such a miraculous recovery; but it did increase his curiosity as to what other hidden abilities Yumichika possessed. Granted, the injuries sustained in the attack in Mito had taken several months to heal, but to vanish without a trace? Ikkaku held that there was something more at work here than the mere passage of time.

Either way, Yumichika's return to health had cleared the way for Ikkaku to tease and badger him, and for him to respond in kind. A sense of normalcy had returned. In fact, Ikkaku had to own the truth that Yumichika had overcome not only the physical but mental and emotional damage wrought by the attack. It was all part of the mystery, and it was a mystery Ikkaku had not forgotten. Still, he refrained from pursuing it, for he did not want to run the risk of upsetting Yumichika. He would have plenty of time to hunt for answers late. For the time-being, he could simply appreciate that things had turned out so well, and feel assured that the truth would come out eventually.

After all they'd been through together, Yumichika was not likely to keep secrets from him.

* * *

><p>"Here you are. I've been looking for you. Didn't you feel me calling you?" Yumichika asked as he entered the shrine in his inner world.<p>

The reikon stood in the spot where the altar should have been, in the center of the inlaid flower mosaic. He did not turn at the sound of Yumichika's voice.

"Yes, I heard you," he replied.

Yumichika was perplexed. "Then why didn't you answer? Why didn't you come to me?"

The reikon gave no answer, and his silence concerned Yumichika, who moved to stand in front of him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, master," the reikon replied.

"Well, then, what's going on? Honestly, you call me master, but you never do as I ask," Yumichika complained. Then, in a moment of great audacity, he decided to try a proven approach. He focused his concentration. "Do you really consider me your master? If so, you should tell me your name." He leaned close and said in a quiet voice that was contrary to the sudden desperate desire he was feeling. "Tell me your name."

A deliberative look of quandary pierced through the roiling light, but no answer was forthcoming.

Yumichika was not dissuaded. "You want us to grow closer, don't you?" he cooed. "You want us to understand each other better, right?"

A smile shaped the kaleidoscope of color. "Are you trying to use my own ability against me?" the reikon asked, sounding pleasantly incredulous. "I'm the essence of your power, and yet here you are, trying to seduce me."

"I want to know your name," Yumichika insisted, still speaking with carefully measured allure. "Please tell me."

There was a long pause, followed by a formidable sigh. "Why did you have to be so beautiful?" he asked, without expecting an answer.

Yumichika smiled. "I thought you liked that about me."

"I do."

"Then, why do you keep resisting me?" Yumichika pressed, edging closer.

The reikon, in response, edged back. "Because someone has to be immune to you, to be able to look after you and keep you from overreaching yourself."

The words were spoken with such sincerity that Yumichika immediately gave up the idea of trying to ply his wiles. He took a step back. "I shouldn't have done that," he apologized. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," the reikon replied "I enjoyed it." He hesitated, seeming apprehensive and reluctant, yet anxious and excited. "It showed me that you are fully healed now."

Yumichika nodded. "Thanks to you."

"That means it's time," the reikon stated.

"Time for what?"

"Time for me to fulfill my promise."

With those words, the air around the reikon began to shimmer.

As Yumichika looked on in wonder, the beautiful body in front of him began to reform into the same sort of luminescent azure vines that had come together to form it originally. They twisted apart and then, in a flash of blue light, they conjoined; and when the blinding aura of the light left Yumichika able to see again, he was looking at a sword, dangling and rotating before him like the vines that decorated this world.

There was nothing particularly noteworthy about it – a long blade of unetched steel, beautiful in its simplicity, with wisteria-colored webbing on the hilt – the same color as Yumichika's eyes. It was as plain as the reikon was ostentatious.

Yumichika hung back from it. He'd never touched a sword in his life; and despite the attraction he felt towards the weapon, it was not enough to overcome his apprehension.

"I told you it would happen when you were ready," the reikon reminded him. "Come and take me. Why are you hesitating?"

"This—this is some sort of trick," Yumichika insisted, shaking his head. "I don't want a sword. This—this is Ikkaku's doing, isn't it? This is one of his tricks to get me to learn how to fight!"

"That brute should only be so clever," the reikon replied. "He has nothing to do with this. This is all about you. You're the one who brought me into being. You're the one who manifested me into this form. You're also the one who keeps hiding from the truth and denying what you really want."

"I know what I _don't_ want. I _don't_ want a sword," Yumichika protested. "Go back—can't you go back to what you were?"

"I can still be that, as well. But I can't undo what you've already done, which is to bring me into this form. I exist now in both forms. I'm not like most other zanpakutos, who take on their sword form first and then a spirit body . . . "

He was still talking, but Yumichika had ceased to hear anything.

"Zanpakuto?" he blurted out. "_Zanpakuto?_ I don't have a zanpakuto! I don't want a zanpakuto!"

"You _do_ have one, and you _do_ want one. I wouldn't be here otherwise."

"No!" Yumichika protested. "No! Why-why would I want a zanpakuto?"

"I don't know why," the reikon replied. "All that matters is that you wanted one badly enough to bring me into being. And I _am_ a zanpakuto."

"This can't be!"

"Why do you protest so much? Why are you so opposed to the idea? You said you wanted to learn to control me. This is the only way."

"But I didn't think it would be like this!" Yumichika protested vehemently. "Zanpakutos are for Shinigami! I've never wanted a zanpakuto, and I don't want one now!"

The reikon was placid. "Then you don't want me."

"No, that's not true," Yumichika countered. "You know that's not true! I want you as you were, not as a sword."

"You can't have only part of me, kimi-san," the reikon explained. "We will never have the right kind of relationship if you can't accept all of me. And it's already too late to go back."

Yumichika turned away, shaking his head. "I wanted to learn how to defend myself using your abilities, not by brandishing a sword. You knew this was coming all along, and you let me think I was winning the argument. This isn't what I had in mind." He started to leave the shrine.

"What are you so afraid of?" the reikon asked.

"I'm not afraid," Yumichika replied heatedly. "I just don't want to use force to get what I want."

"Ha! Well, we both know what you used before, and we both know where it got you," the reikon challenged, his voice now taking on a caustic, biting tone.

Yumichika stopped sharply. The reikon's words hit him like a physical blow. "You know why I did those things," he ground out, the anger bubbling in his words.

"Yes," the reikon replied. "You did them to get what you wanted, to use your own words." He paused. "So, instead of only thinking about getting what you want, why don't you start thinking about being able to defend yourself." He paused. "It would be foolish, kimi, to believe that you will never be confronted with danger again. And it would be tragic if you were not able to defend yourself. I do not want to see you helpless again." He appealed to Yumichika's greatest weakness. "Neither does Madarame. He begs you to learn to fight, not just for his own edification anymore, but because he fears for your safety."

Yumichika sighed deeply. When he turned, it was to see the reikon now standing in bodily form behind the sword, which was still rotating and glinting in the air. He watched as the reikon wrapped his fingers around the hilt and, even as he drew the sword, it appeared as a shadow, a ghostly image in his hand. The original sword, solid and opaque, remained in place.

"Remember, you said you wanted this. What difference does it make which part of my powers you use? You must learn how to use all of them. But first, you must learn to control me," the reikon persisted. "Now, we'll see if you can. Come, take me."

Yumichika took a step forward then hesitated.

"Don't you trust me?" the reikon asked.

"I trust you," Yumichika answered. "I'm just—I don't know if I can do this."

"You said before that you were ready."

Yumichika swallowed. "Yes, well, that was before you turned into a sword-"

"Zanpakuto," the reikon corrected.

"But what if I'm not any good at it? What if I can't fight that way?"

"There's only one way to find out," came the assured response.

Yumichika approached the sword then reached out his arm. As his hand closed around the violet-gilded hilt, he felt an immediate surge of tingling warmth run up his arm and disperse throughout his entire body. It was the same pleasurable sensation he'd experienced whenever coming into contact with—or even close proximity to—the reikon. And yet, it felt more concentrated, more intense, to the point where he actually staggered backwards a few steps and was forced to grip the weapon with both hands.

He had no chance to ponder the energy flowing into his body, for the reikon was upon him immediately; and for a moment, Yumichika felt like he was facing Ikkaku. No warning. No instruction. Considerable leniency, yet not quite in the same vein as mercy. He was driven back and into the vast openness outside the shrine. He clumsily deflected blow after blow, until his arms felt like the bones had turned to dust, and his head was pounding with the sound of metal against metal.

At last, he was forced to his knees, and the assault ended. For nearly a minute, he stayed on his hands and knees, panting and struggling to catch his breath.

The reikon stood above him. "How can you have so much power and yet be so frail?"

Yumichika, too exhausted to raise his head, scowled at the ground. "F-frail?" he gasped. "You didn't—you didn't let up once!"

"I was barely trying," the reikon replied. "Come now, get to your feet."

"Just a—second," Yumichika breathed.

"No, now," the reikon insisted, sliding the tip of his sword under Yumichika's chin.

Yumichika staggered to his feet, his sword drooping at his side. Looking around, he saw that they were on the cliffs above the dark sea. He hadn't noticed before, but he could now smell the salt in the air and hear the waves crashing below. He hadn't realized just how far the last engagement had taken them.

"You didn't get a single attack off against me," the reikon stated. "Try now."

Yumichika stood stupefied for a moment. How was he to attack this being who was so superior to him?

"Don't you think—shouldn't you teach me first how to hold this thing, how to stand—" he began, but the reikon cut him off.

"This thing? _This thing_! That thing is me!"

Yumichika was annoyed. Annoyed, exhausted, and aching. "Well, I don't see it as you yet," he snapped. "And it would sound weird to refer to it as you!"

"Just strike!" the reikon shouted.

Yumichika lunged forward, bringing the katana down over his head with all the strength he could muster.

The reikon blocked it with a finger.

The ease with which the reikon deflected his attack, coupled with the impression that the reikon was mocking him behind the halo of light, flamed the embers of humiliation in Yumichika's heart. He came at him again and again – never eliciting more than a minuscule response from the reikon – until, once again, he collapsed to the ground, out of breath, frustrated, and ashamed of his inability. The sword fell from his hand.

"Oh dear, I see we have much work to do," the reikon announced nonchalantly.

At that moment, Yumichika felt a twinge of anger towards the reikon. He was making fun of him. He was getting a thrill out of Yumichika's weakness, when Yumichika had trusted him to provide compassionate instruction.

"I—I told you I—I wouldn't be any good," he gasped bitterly.

"I wasn't expecting you to be good," the reikon said, placing his hand on Yumichika's back and rubbing gently. His voice took on its kind tenor again. "I just wanted to see where our starting point would be. I wanted to see if you would back down. And you didn't. You were defeated, but you didn't quit."

Yumichika's anger began to melt away under the reikon's comforting touch. "Are you disappointed?"

"Not at all," the reikon answered affectionately. "You just need time. And confidence." He paused. "Do you still want me to teach you?"

And although Yumichika could hardly believe the words coming from his lips, he replied, "More than anything."

The reikon drew him up to rest on his heels. He was holding the dropped sword before him. "Then I belong to you," he said. "You will keep me now."

Yumichika looked at him with an exhausted, puzzled expression, but he took the sword. The world around him grew dim, and he did not attempt to fight the sleep that was overtaking him.

The last words he heard the reikon say were, "I trust you, master."

* * *

><p>Yumichika had never lost his penchant for rising before dawn, and this morning was no exception.<p>

The fire had burned low, and the accompanying coldness had roused Yumichika even earlier than usual. He sat up and stretched in the red light of the glowing embers. In the low loft above him, he could hear Ikkaku snoring. Obviously, the cold was not disturbing to him.

He pushed back the covers and was about to get to his feet when a twinkling of light beside his futon caught his eye. He drew in a sharp breath.

There on the floor lay the sword.

Slowly, he put out his hand and took hold of it, wondering if he were seeing things. But once he felt the weight in his hand, he knew he was not dreaming. The flood of sensations commenced, but this time he would not indulge it. Looking up anxiously, fearful that the sword's energy might somehow be detectable to Ikkaku even in his sleep, he quickly slipped the weapon under his futon.

He stood up, fully awake now, and shuffled nervously beside the bed for several seconds before recalling that he needed to stoke the fire. That would at least give him something to do while he pondered the sword's unexpected appearance.

"_You will keep me now."_

Apparently, the reikon had meant those words literally. And while there was an exciting aspect to this development, it also presented a problem. Not so long ago, he had been wishing for a way to introduce the reikon to Ikkaku; but now everything had changed. Yumichika was not prepared to share with Ikkaku the sword's origins. How could he explain the sword's assertion of being a zanpakuto? What business did someone like Yumichika have being the master of a weapon only possessed by Shinigami? It was outrageous to imagine that Ikkaku, in love with the idea of brandishing his own weapon, was inferior to Yumichika in that regard. It was inconceivable. The whole situation was nerve-wracking. Yumichika could not even let Ikkaku see the sword, for it would generate too many questions, for which Yumichika had no answers – or indeed, he had answers, but they would cause more consternation than peace. How could he explain the sudden appearance of the weapon? And the very idea of his inner world and the being that resided there would be too incredible for Ikkaku to believe. He'd been foolish to have even entertained the idea of introducing the two. It had only been the feeling of intoxicated bliss at discovering his face restored to its original unmarred perfection that had made him think that such a meeting would be acceptable.

No, no, he could not let this secret be known to Ikkaku. Not yet. Not until he'd had a chance to find out what the true nature of the being was, for he was not yet convinced that the weapon really was a zanpakuto. Not only that, but he had to weigh Ikkaku's possible reactions, were he to discover that Yumichika had procured a sword.

For all Ikkaku's insistence that Yumichika learn to fight, he would be curious as to how Yumichika had come across such a fine weapon without him knowing about it. He would want to train Yumichika himself, and would that interfere with the reikon's training? Would he somehow discover the weapon's secret if exposed to it every day?

Those questions needed answers before Yumichika could risk revealing the weapon. He only hoped he could keep the secret long enough to allow for the answers.

* * *

><p>April arrived.<p>

And not a moment too soon for Ikkaku. He'd had enough of snow and sleet and freezing rain.

"It's already warm out there. The rest of that snow should be melted by the end of the day," he announced as he came inside with an armload of wood. "It's a wet, muddy mess outside."

Yumichika looked at him askance. "So I see," he commented, noting the outside mess being tracked inside.

"We'll be able to start working on the wash porch again in a week or so if this weather keeps up," Ikkaku went on, oblivious to Yumichika's wry observance of the soiling of the house.

"That will be nice," Yumichika remarked. "That is the one luxury I miss."

"That's cause you like to pamper yourself," Ikkaku stated.

"You seemed to enjoy it, too, if I recall," Yumichika replied.

"Well, it beats a hand-wash from a tin tub," Ikkaku admitted.

"That was good enough for the winter," Yumichika replied. "It'll be different next winter." He began to clean up behind Ikkaku.

"You can work on the garden again," Ikkaku noted, going over to see what Yumichika was stewing in the pot over the cooking fire in the hearth.

"I'm looking forward to it," Yumichika replied.

Ikkaku sat down in front of the low flame. After a few seconds, he said, "It's, uh, a pretty peaceful, simple life here, isn't it?"

Yumichika grinned at him. "Yes. It's perfect," he replied. "You're not getting bored, are you?"

"Well, staying inside through most of the winter wasn't exactly easy," Ikkaku admitted. "But I wouldn't say I'm bored – just ready to get outside and do some work."

"There's lots of work to be done," Yumichika said with a brightness in his countenance that seemed almost surreal to Ikkaku. And this was not its first appearance.

In fact, Ikkaku had never seen Yumichika so content. Content was not even strong enough a word to describe the intensity that enervated Yumichika's calm. It was a dichotomy for which Ikkaku could not account. But as long as it kept Yumichika happy and well, Ikkaku had no complaint; and his curiosity was not enough to warrant investigation into the matter.

"We'll have to make a run into Venla to get some supplies," he remarked.

"Good," Yumichika nodded. "That will give me a chance to sell a few things. When did you want to go?"

"Well, it's too muddy to try taking the cart down right now. Let's wait a few days and see if it dries up a bit," Ikkaku replied.

"We don't have to take the cart down," Yumichika said. "We can get the heavy supplies later. We can still take my things down to sell, and well . . . we can just walk around a bit. I feel like company."

Ikkaku was doubtful. "You sure? It's a mess out there, Yumichika. We'll both be covered with mud by the time we get down to the village."

"I don't mind," Yumichika replied. "I just feel like going to the village. It's been over four weeks since we last went down."

"Okay, if you're sure," Ikkaku acquiesced. He'd not forgotten that despite Yumichika's enjoyment of solitude, he was also a very social creature who loved the company of others in measured doses. And he had taken to the villagers right away, just as they had taken to him.

Even Ikkaku found a ready welcome in Venla.

"We'll head down as soon as you're ready," Ikkaku stated. "But just remember, no complaining when we get back and you're covered in mud from head to foot."

Yumichika smiled. "No complaints. I promise."

* * *

><p>Ikkaku had been right.<p>

By the time they arrived in Venla, they were both spattered knee-high with mud. But in this way, they fit in perfectly, for all the other villagers were equally victim of the thawing Spring. And even though the ground was a mess, the weather was pleasant, bringing most of the inhabitants outdoors to visit and enjoy the warmth and sunshine.

Yumichika immediately fell into conversation with the miller and his wife, both of whom had need of Yumichika's services: the miller for burlap sacks and his wife for repairs to the winter bedding.

When they had finished talking, the miller, a man named Yenset, looked to Ikkaku. "I could still use some help in the mill house," he announced, as he did every time he saw Madarame. When he looked at Madarame, he saw strength and toughness – two qualities he admired and desired in a worker.

Ikkaku gave an accommodating smile. "There's still a lot of work to do up at the cottage," he said.

Yenset chuckled. "The cottage? It was nothing but a pile of stones a few months ago. I guess it's coming along?"

"Oh yes, it's coming along very well," Yumichika replied.

Ikkaku knew what was coming, and he had to act quickly.

"We've got a lot of stuff to buy, Yumichika," he said. "We'd better get moving." He was already tugging at Yumichika's sleeve.

Yumichika shrugged and smiled at Yenset. "I'll get to work on those sacks and stop by next week to pick up the bedding."

They hadn't gone more than a dozen steps when Ikkaku said pre-emptively, "Don't start."

"Well, why not?" Yumichika asked. "You know you could spare three or four days a week to work at the mill. The money would be good, and you would—"

"You heard me, Yumichika. We have enough work to do at the cottage," Ikkaku cut him off. "Do you want that washporch and the garden?"

"We can still finish both of them. It will just take a little longer—"

"Yumichika, I have no intention of getting a job," Ikkaku stated emphatically.

Yumichika smirked. "You know, you're very funny. You insist that I learn how to fight, because a man should know how to fight. But you refuse to work even though a man should also earn his way."

Ikkaku knit his brows and turned to face Yumichika with consternation. "I _am_ doing work and earning my way. That place takes a lot of work."

"You know what I mean. Any income we have is from me," Yumichika replied. "Don't you think we should both be . . . contributing in that manner?"

"I don't believe this," Ikkaku grunted. "You never thought like this before."

"Well, that's because we weren't in a place like this before," Yumichika replied. "Ikkaku, it's not that I think you should earn money. I just think you . . . you would benefit from making friends with other people and learning how to—how to . . . "

"How to get along with people?"

Yumichika nodded. "The villagers here are so different than in Mito. I want you to be friends with them."

"I get along fine with them," Ikkaku pointed out. "Don't forget, I knew them before you did, and I've had no problems with them since day one."

"But—"

"Yumichika, stop," Ikkaku interrupted in a stern voice. "Look, I don't think it's a good idea for you to be alone up there all day long."

Yumichika hesitated. He had not expected Ikkaku to say that. "You're still afraid something will happen to me."

Ikkaku nodded. "Yes."

Yumichika considered for several seconds. "If I could prove to you that I can take care of myself, would you reconsider taking the job?"

"How are you going to prove it to me?" Ikkaku challenged.

"If I can show you that I know how to fight, how to defend myself, will that be enough for you?" Yumichika asked.

Ikkaku looked at him with dubious eyes. "Like I said . . . how are you going to show me?"

Yumichika gave a smug grin. "When we get back to the cottage, I'll prove it to you. And then, you'll agree to take the job?"

"We'll see," was all Ikkaku would allow.

They spent the next three hours conducting business, with Yumichika selling every item he had brought with him. They purchased only the staples, including the burlap for Yenset's sacks, and priced some of the supplies they would pick up when they were able to bring the cart down.

It was mid-afternoon by the time they headed back up into the mountains, and Ikkaku was already looking forward to seeing how Yumichika intended to prove to him that he was able to defend himself.

_"If I can show you that I know how to fight . . . "_

Fight.

Yumichika had actually used the word _fight_.

Ikkaku shook his head to himself as they climbed up the mountain track. Yumichika had not had the opportunity to learn how to fight since leaving Mito. He'd scarcely been out of Ikkaku's sight for more than a few minutes at a time. What sort of trick did he think he could pull that would convince Ikkaku he had somehow miraculously learned how to fight?

Ikkaku found the very idea humorous. He looked forward with anticipation to their arrival at the cottage, and no sooner had they arrived and put the supplies away than he went straight to the point.

"So, show me," he demanded.

Yumichika was still fussing with a small stack of fabric he had purchased. "Show you what?"

Ikkaku took him by the shoulder and turned him face-to-face. "Show me that you know how to fight, that you can defend yourself."

Yumichika crossed his arms over his chest. "I will, but first you have to promise me that if I can prove it to you, you will take the job."

"I don't understand why—"

"Ikkaku, I want you to fit in here. I want you to feel comfortable and be happy," Yumichika said with warmth. "I feel—I think we'll be staying here a very long time, and it's important to me that you're as happy as I am."

In the face of such heartfelt concern, Ikkaku could not bear the thought of disappointing him. Yet, he was certain that Yumichika could not possibly meet the mark.

"Okay. If you can prove it to me, I'll take that job – but only for three days a week," he gave in. "And you have to prove it to my satisfaction. You know how hard that will be."

"That's fair," Yumichika nodded. "Agreed."

He walked over to his futon. He was about to take a big chance, but it seemed now was an appropriate time to make the revelation and hope that Ikkaku would be more interested in fighting than questioning. He reached underneath the futon and drew out the sword. When he turned to face Ikkaku and saw the look on his face, he felt an unexpected swell of pride. Ikkaku was flabbergasted by the mere sight of the weapon.

Ikkaku took a step forward and reached out his hand, but Yumichika withheld the sword. He was not sure why, but the idea of anyone else, even Ikkaku, touching it seemed wrong to him.

"Where did you get that?" Ikkaku asked.

"I've had it for some time now," Yumichika replied. Not quite the truth, but not exactly a lie either.

"Since when?"

"I got it in Mito . . . shortly after I met you," Yumichika replied. "I didn't want you to know about it, so I kept it hidden." This was still close enough to the truth that Yumichika did not feel as if he were deceiving Ikkaku.

"Let me see it," Ikkaku insisted.

Yumichika held back.

"What's the matter with you? I want to see it," Ikkaku pressed.

"I—I don't let anyone else touch it—" Yumichika began, but in the next instant, Ikkaku had snatched the weapon out of his hand.

Immediately, Yumichika could see that something had disturbed Ikkaku. He held the weapon as if he had never held a sword before, as if there were something distasteful about it. He took only one swing before handing it back to Yumichika.

"It's . . . nice," he stammered, still clearly troubled. He visibly shook off whatever feeling was eating at him. "But you couldn't have gotten this in Mito. Bakla couldn't have made something of this quality."

"I didn't get it from Bakla," Yumichika replied, anticipating this argument. "I got it from a wares vendor passing through."

Ikkaku eyed him with suspicion. "A wares vendor? Selling swords like this?"

Yumichika grinned. "It was the most beautiful one he had."

"Of course," Ikkaku replied, but he did not sound convinced. Still, where Yumichika had acquired the sword was not his main concern. "So, can you use it?"

Yumichika simpered and headed for the door. "Follow me outside and you'll get your answer."

Ikkaku laughed. "Oh, I've been waiting for this since the day we met."

"The chance to fight with me?" Yumichika chastised. "That's terrible."

"You know what I'm talking about," Ikkaku corrected. "I've wanted you to learn to fight from the very beginning, and now it looks like it will finally happen." He drew his own sword. "Let's see what you can do." A look of devious excitement crossed his face.

It was an expression Yumichika had seen many times: the thrill of a challenge. And when it was Yumichika who was presenting the challenge—a physical one, at that—well, things did not get any better for Ikkaku.

Ikkaku lunged forward and was actually pleasantly surprised when Yumichika flew into a defensive posture to block the blow with ease.

"Well, that's already an improvement," Ikkaku stated with a grin.

"Oh, I'm just getting started," Yumichika replied with a cockiness that Ikkaku couldn't resist.

They engaged in earnest, and as the contest ensued, Ikkaku found himself marveling at Yumichika's considerable knowledge and aptitude. Still, it was puzzling, for with the skills he currently possessed, while he could never defeat Ikkaku, he could have easily defeated the men in Mito who had attacked him. Something simply did not add up.

Still, Ikkaku set his curiosity aside long enough to admit that for such a slight man, Yumichika was able to muster a strength disproportionate to his size. But even more so, his ability was far superior to anything Ikkaku had ever seen, though not quite matching his own.

And even though Ikkaku knew Yumichika stood no chance of defeating him, he fought so as to prolong the match and see how much Yumichika was capable of.

It turned out that he was capable of a great deal. He was quick and fluid, which made his fighting seem nearly like a form of art. His greatest drawback was his lack of strength, which robbed his attacks of power. But if the purpose of his learning had been defense, he had progressed well.

At length, Ikkaku lowered his sword. "I'm impressed," he stated.

"Impressed enough to take the job?"

"Not so fast," Ikkaku said, sliding his sword back into its scabbard. "Who taught you how to do all that?"

Yumichika's countenance did not waver. "I taught myself."

"How can you teach yourself? You didn't know anything about sword-fighting," Ikkaku challenged.

"I knew enough—"

"Tell me the truth," Ikkaku persisted. "Someone taught you all that. Who? And when? You didn't know all that stuff when I met you."

"I told you, I taught myself—"

"Did you also teach yourself hand-to-hand combat?" Ikkaku interrupted, and without giving Yumichika a chance to answer, he sprang forward and took Yumichika to the ground, at least four inches deep in mud.

The sword flew out of Yumichika's hand and landed several feet away, well out of reach.

Perched on top of him, Ikkaku pressed him down into the mud with his greater weight and strength and used his free hand to scoop handfuls of mud which he smeared across his face and into his hair.

"Are you going to tell me who taught you?" he demanded.

Yumichika tried to push him off. "Stop!" he cried, but his laughter robbed him of conviction.

"You're going to stay here until you tell me!" Ikkaku threatened. "I'll cover you every inch with mud!"

"Ikkaku, let me—" He cut off as Ikkaku pushed a handful of mud into his mouth. He spit it out, spluttering and laughing. "S-stop! I—I'll tell you!"

"Okay, go ahead," Ikkaku said, ceasing his attack and giving him a chance to answer.

"I—I can't see," Yumichika coughed. "I can't open my eyes—"

"You don't need to see in order to speak. Now tell me, and I'll let you up," Ikkaku ordered.

"You didn't know him," Yumichika managed, speaking around the mud still in his mouth.

"Who was he?"

"He was . . . he was an exotic."

Ikkaku pressed him down deeper into the mud. "An exotic? What the hell does that mean?"

"He—he was from a different land," Yumichika replied, still not willing to compose a complete falsehood, but equally opposed to revealing the full truth.

"How did he end up training you?" Ikkaku asked.

"You were gone a lot, and that's when he—"

Ikkaku suddenly grew serious and pointed. "Yumichika, you didn't—he wasn't—"

Yumichika gave a blind smile. "No," he replied softly. "He was always very good to me. He would never have even thought of wanting me for that."

Ikkaku was bemused. How could Yumichika never have made mention of such a man before?

"What was his name?" he asked.

Yumichika used the mud as an excuse to delay answering. "Ikkaku, this is really getting uncomfortable. Please let me up, and I'll tell you everything."

Ikkaku knew Yumichika's trickery. "What was his name?"

Yumichika had to give an answer of some kind, and before he knew it, he was speaking the truth. "I always just called him reikon."

"Reikon? Spirit?" Ikkaku was no longer in the mood for playing games. "What kind of name is that?"

"That's what I called him," Yumichika reiterated.

Ikkaku got to his feet and pulled Yumichika out of the mud. He walked him over to a small mound of remaining snow and helped him wipe his eyes clean, then he faced him directly.

"Tell me the truth," he demanded in a low voice. "He's the one who healed you that day I found you passed out in the wash porch, isn't he?"

"I, uh . . . I . . . I think so," Yumichika replied, wondering how the conversation had gotten away from him so quickly.

Ikkaku's manner was grave. "He didn't follow you here, did he?"

"Well, I . . . I . . . "

"Yumichika, did he follow you here?" Ikkaku took hold of his arms. He was almost frantic.

"No," Yumichika replied. "He didn't."

"You're sure?" Ikkaku pressed.

"I'm sure," Yumichika replied. It was still the truth. The reikon did not follow. The reikon accompanied.

Ikkaku took a tepid breath of relief. "You tell me if he shows up again."

"Why? What are you so worried about? He taught me how to fight. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Did it ever occur to you that it could be a hollow?" Ikkaku put forth.

Yumichika was stunned. "A hollow? A hollow? What makes you think he was a hollow?"

"He has no name. You call him spirit. He healed you—"

"I said he might have been the one who healed me," Yumichika corrected. "And he never did anything to hurt me. I can assure you, Ikkaku, he was not a hollow."

"Look, there are hollows here in Soul Society, and some of them can disguise themselves," Ikkaku warned. "And with your riatsu, they'd be attracted to you just like everyone else is."

"Ikkaku, if he had been a hollow, he had plenty of opportunities to devour me, and he didn't," Yumichika replied. "He wasn't a hollow. I called him reikon because he . . . he seemed like a spirit to me."

Ikkaku was not convinced. "Well, if he shows up again, you tell me."

Yumichika gave a noncommital gesture, then changed the subject. "Can we please go to the stream, so I can wash this off?"

"Yumichika, I'm serious. If he shows up again, tell me. Hollows can use that dark magic, kido. They can trick you, and once they have you, it's over."

"Fine, fine. Now can we go to the stream?" Yumichika was already moving. As they headed through the forest, he asked, "So, did my performance meet with your satisfaction?"

Ikkaku, his thoughts now rushing around the possibility that Yumichika had been courting a hollow, had completely forgotten about the entire purpose of their spar.

"I guess so," he shrugged. "You seem able to defend yourself, though you haven't got a prayer on offense."

"All you asked for was that I defend myself," Yumichika reminded him.

"Yeah, but now . . . I don't know, Yumichika. I'm worried about what you said," Icame the reply.

"Ikkaku, stop worrying. I can assure you, he wasn't a hollow. You're just looking for any excuse not to take that job," Yumichika frowned.

"I don't need an excuse not to take the job, Yumichika," Ikkaku replied. "I could refuse plain and simple, but we made a deal. I'm going to honor that deal and take the job, because you seem pretty well able to defend yourself – although we're still going to work on it. You need a lot more instruction and practice. But this . . . reikon is a different matter. You've managed to keep him a secret from me all this time, and I don't like that. Why would you hide something like that from me unless he convinced you not to tell me?"

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to know that . . . that you were right. I didn't want to admit that I needed to learn how to fight. After all the hassle you gave me about it and all the resistance I put up . . . I decided to just learn quietly."

Ikkaku was not buying it. "If you knew how to fight like that, and you had that sword, why didn't you use it when those men came to attack you?"

"I didn't have a chance," Yumichika replied. They had come to the stream, and he began stripping off his mud-covered clothes. "It's going to be freezing in here."

"Yumichika—"

"Ikkaku, please, stop with all the questioning," Yumichika implored. "Trust me. He was not a hollow, and he didn't follow me here. He trained me, and that was all." He stepped into the shallows and began splashing water over his mud-caked skin. "Now, you'd better wash that mud off yourself, because I don't want it tracked into the house. Give me your kosode and let me rinse it out."

Less than ten minutes later, they were tramping back naked to the cottage, carrying their wet clothes and recognizing that even though Spring had arrived, the mountain air was still biting on bare skin

"I won't be surprised if we both catch the chills," Yumichika remarked as they entered the cottage, which was still warm from the heat of the brazier. He threw on a kimono and stoked a fire in the hearth.

Ikkaku brought some snow from outside and dumped it in the wash basin beside the fire. In a matter of minutes the heat had melted the snow, and Yumichika put their wet, dirty clothes into the basin; then he turned towards the task of making supper.

There was little conversation through dinner and the rest of the evening, and Ikkaku turned in early, clearly still ill at ease over the day's revelations.

But this suited Yumichika just fine. He was anxious to see the reikon, and the sooner Ikkaku was slumbering away in snoring bliss, the sooner he could enter his inner world.

* * *

><p>"Imagine calling me a hollow! That buffoon!"<p>

Yumichika was smiling with tight control, trying not to burst into laughter at the reikon's outrage. "He doesn't know any better," he explained. "And besides, his concern is genuine."

"The very idea that I could ever be confused with a hollow!" The reikon flounced across the bed in the maroon room and looked at himself in one of the mirrors. "As if a hollow could ever possess such beauty!"

Yumichika went after him. He put his hand on the reikon's arm. "He doesn't know about you. He came up with his own ideas based off what I told him."

"Well, why don't you tell him about me?" the reikon asked in a huff. "Maybe that way, he won't make such outrageous assumptions about things he doesn't know."

Yumichika ran his hand gently down the reikon's arm and took hold of his wrist. "You know I can't do that. Not anymore. I wanted to. You know I wanted him to meet you, but now I can't do that. I can't even risk telling him about you. And you know why."

"He's got to find out someday," the reikon countered.

"I know," Yumichika conceded. "And I don't want to keep you hidden. It's just not the right time yet." He paused and leaned close to speak softly in the reikon's ear, anxious to change the subject. "He was impressed with my fighting."

"And well he should be," came the haughty response.

"I liked seeing him so surprised," Yumichika went on. "And it's all your doing."

"Just a couple months ago you were complaining about how hard it was," the reminded him. "You said I was being too rough on you."

"Yes, but . . . that was two months ago. Haven't I improved in that time?" Yumichika replied.

"You _have_ improved," the reikon agreed. "In many ways."

"So, isn't it time that you took me to the next level?" Yumichika pursued.

"The next level?"

"Well, I've heard . . . don't all zanpakuto have a release called a shikai?" Yumichika asked.

The reikon inclined his head. "Yes."

"So . . . don't you think it's time that you taught me how to achieve shikai?"

"Two months and you think you're ready for shikai?" The reikon sounded doubtful.

"We won't know unless we try." Yumichika looked up at him with a coy expression. "I still haven't learned how to control you."

The reikon shuddered at the feel of his master's body against his own. He took a deep, wavering breath and a step back. "I think you already do."

Yumichika was relentless as he moved closer again. "Show me."

The reikon swallowed and nodded. He retreated several steps. "Follow me."

He led the way to the cavern of the lake and the peacocks and alit upon the shore. Yumichika set down beside him.

"Do you remember, this is where I found you after you'd been hurt by those men?" the reikon asked.

"I don't remember," Yumichika replied.

"I found you here, lying at the edge of the water." He paused. "I had always thought that the water represented a part of you that you kept hidden from me. A part of you that I had no access to. I was only partly right, but I'm afraid if I tell you what it is, you'll be—you'll feel differently about me."

"I could never feel badly about you," Yumichika replied. "Tell me. What is this water?"

"It's not a part of _y_ou," the reikon explained. "It's a part of me – which means it's a part of you, too; but . . . it's a part of me that only you have access to. You can take it, and I can't withhold it."

Yumichika looked at him and shook his head without understanding.

"Master . . . you will never be physically as strong as a lot of other souls," the reikon went on. "But your power has never been just in the strength of your body." He paused, wondering how he would explain something so complicated he hardly understood it himself. "When you were injured by those men, you instinctively came here, to this pool, to draw strength from me. I was afraid you would . . . I was afraid you would drain all my energy, so I took you to the maroon room. There I could control how much of my energy I gave you. It was cowardly of me, but I was afraid of dying." He drew in a long, wavering breath. "But when I teach you this, when I show you shikai, once you master it, you will be able to take as much of my energy as you desire, and I won't be able to stop you."

Yumichika frowned. "This is confusing. You're talking as if I'd hurt you. I would never hurt you. You're talking about all this energy, but . . . what is it? You said my power was seduction. Is that what your power is, too?"

The reikon appeared to be choosing his words very carefully. "Seduction has many levels, but it always involves taking in some form or other."

"If it's effective, then what difference does it make?" Yumichika asked.

"What if you could see a physical manifestation of what seduction can do?" the reikon asked.

"What are you talking about? I know what seduction can do. Are you forgetting that I'm an expert in the art of seduction?" The swagger returned to Yumichika's manner.

The reikon held up his hand and the sword materialized in his grip. He spoke in a commanding yet quiet voice.

"Sake kirue."

With a flash of blue-green light, the single blade split into four scythe-shaped blades, which instantly took on the shape of vines, luminescent and still the same blue-green hue. They looked exactly like the vines that animated the open spaces in this world.

Yumichika stared wide-eyed and gaping as they undulated like weeds in the tide before the reikon, reaching up over his head and seeming to be alive and waiting for direction.

The reikon, nearly overpowering with the flow of energy, spoke with tranquil authority. "Come, take me."

Yumichika came forward and hesitantly reached out, unable to resist the allure of the weapon. He took hold of the hilt with both hands.

The instant the weapon was in his grasp, he felt something he had never experienced before. It was an insatiable hunger, a desire to consume and possess. It was a power so vast that he could willingly grow drunk on its immensity. _This_ was seduction. He was being seduced, pushed to the brink of his self-control. All he had to do was allow himself to let go of all his inhibitions. That was all. He raised his eyes to see the reikon standing in front of him, and it was as if he were seeing him for the first time. The colors surrounding him were more vibrant, yet it was the clearest image Yumichika had yet seen of him. And what he saw only increased his desire.

This power was his. The reikon belonged to him.

Suddenly, the vines protruding from the hilt sprang into action. They encircled the reikon's body, pinning his arms to his sides and forcing him to his knees.

Yumichika leaned down to look him in the eye. He drew close enough that only a whisper was needed. "Tell me your name," he demanded, his voice both commanding yet barely controlled. The power flowing through him made even speaking a trial.

The reikon looked back at him, his expression unreadable through the swirling light.

"Tell me," Yumichika repeated, and the vines grew tighter.

But instead of answering, the reikon asked, "Do you love me?"

Yumichika shuddered at the question, but not from disgust or horror. He felt as if the reikon, despite being the captive, was the seducer; and he could not deny that he wanted to be lured in. He wanted to possess this creature; and he wanted to be possessed by him.

Yumichika's response was immediate and passionate. Something inside him broke loose, and he pressed his mouth to the reikon's, abandoning any idea of restraint. He wanted this being, yet it seemed he could not get enough of him. He could not sate the desperate hunger that had sprung up inside him.

He felt the reikon gently pushing against his arms, putting some little space between them. He had not even been aware that the vines had vanished or that the sword now lay on the ground, its blade restored.

"Kimi-san," the reikon whispered.

Yumichika could barely catch his breath. He flushed red. "I—I'm sorry," he managed between gasps. "I don't know—what happened."

The reikon glowed contentedly. "I have to admit I was a little surprised." It was the truth. He had expected his master to be overwhelmed by the power in his hands, but to the point of inability. Instead, just the opposite had occurred. His master had been consumed by lust and driven to act in the very manner that he needed to learn to suppress.

"I got carried away," Yumichika went on. "I—I didn't hurt you, did I?"

The reikon laughed. "Of course not. But yes, you did get carried away. That isn't how our relationship should be."

Yumichika's blush deepened to crimson. "I know, and I'm—I'm . . . . " His voice fell off in humiliation.

"You will learn how to deal with the desires I arouse in you," the reikon said gently. "That is part of learning how to control me."

"I—I've never done that before," Yumichika said. "I've never felt that before."

"You've never tapped that power before," the reikon said. "When I am in your hand and in released form, that desire to possess is what you will feel."

"I—I don't think I can control that." He sounded frightened.

"Given enough time and instruction, you'll learn." The reikon reached down, retrieved the fallen sword and placed it in Yumichika's hand. "It takes practice."

They stood up together.

Yumichika, still too ashamed to face the reikon, turned to head back to the maroon room, but the reikon took his hand and stopped him.

"You are my master." A smile showed through the glimmer around him. "And I want no other." A pause. "My name is Ruri'iro Kujaku."

_Ruri'iro Kujaku._

Azure Peacock.

It seemed so obvious now, so perfectly fitting.

It was beautiful – just like its owner.

"Ruri'iro Kujaku," Yumichika repeated. "Did you choose it yourself?"

"I don't know. It was—it's always been my name, but I didn't know it until I said it to you just now."

"I like it."

"So do I," Ruri'iro Kujaku agreed. "Can you imagine if I'd been named something hideous like . . . rose petal or cherry blossom or . . . "

"Or Fuji Kujaku?"

Ruri'iro Kujaku made a sound of disgust and snagged Yumichika by the chin. "Don't even joke about that. You know how I feel about that horrible color."

"And you know how I feel whenever you touch me," Yumichika quipped with a suggestive tone.

Ruri'iro Kujaku released him with a dramatic flourish. "Incorrigible! Even now, you are still trying to seduce me! Now your pride will know no end."

"Then you and I will be completely alike," Yumichika teased.

"Hmph!" Ruri'iro Kujaku turned away, but his trumped up anger was short-lived, for after only a few seconds he heard a whisper in his ear. It was his master's voice.

"I'm going to learn how to control you."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 20 Hard Lessons

_"If only you knew what's inside of me now,  
>You wouldn't want to know me somehow.<br>But you will love me tonight.  
>We alone will be allright<br>In the end."_

_Never Comes the Day  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p>A job.<p>

A job!

He had never had a job in his life. Not in the world of the living and not in Soul Society. The very idea made him feel mundane, and Ikkaku did not want to be mundane.

He tried to blame his predicament on Yumichika's trickery, but that did not ring true. The fact was that he had been so sure of winning the challenge that he'd never imagined he would end up having to fulfill his end of the bargain.

And what made things worse was that, after Yumichika's mysterious revelation about how he had acquired both his sword and his skills, Ikkaku's suspicions had been rattled wide awake; and he feared that now might not be the best time to be away from Yumichika's side.

There was no question but that _someone_ had taught Yumichika how to fight - he had been forced into admitting as much - and Ikkaku had an idea that it was the same person who had provided the sword. The same person who had miraculously erased Yumichika's bruises that day back in Mito.

The same person who had managed to stay hidden all this time, and yet Ikkaku had the sense that he was, in actuality, ever-present. If not a hollow, who or what else could the invisible stranger be? And why was Yumichika so intent on keeping his identity secret?

These questions gnawed at Ikkaku's conscience until he had to willfully push them aside. He could still be vigilant while respecting Yumichika's silence. Until he could be sure that his fears were founded and until he sensed that the danger was immediate, he would have to curb his natural inclinations. It would be a careful balance. He had vowed to protect Yumichika, and he would see that promise through, even if it cost him his freedom.

It was certainly about to cost him his dignity.

Standing outside Yenset's millhouse, he was absolutely certain of that. He was about to become a laborer. He would never have imagined it possible, but here he was on the threshold of . . . normalcy.

He took a deep breath and went inside.

One of Yenset's workers saw him enter, and immediately a smile crossed the man's face. He did not even offer a greeting before rushing into the miller's office, emerging a moment later with Yenset.

The miller approached Ikkaku and extended his hand. From the look on his face, he was not surprised that Ikkaku had shown up. "Good to see you, Madarame-san."

"You look like you've been expecting me," Ikkaku replied, shaking his hand. It was a gesture he still had not quite gotten used to.

"Well, I knew he would get you over here eventually," Yenset grinned, and when Ikkaku looked at him with questioning eyes, he added, "Ayasegawa. I knew he would prevail."

Ikkaku returned the grin. "He usually does."

"Yes, one can tell that just by looking at him," Yenset remarked.

Ikkaku knew what he meant, and it did not offend him or arouse his suspicious mind. He had seen right away that the villagers were no more blind to Yumichika's allure than anyone else, but that was as far as it went. He detected no wantonness among them, and he had also noticed that Yumichika seemed, with each passing day, better able to control and even suppress the more erotic aspects of his person.

"It sounds like you two have been planning this for a while," Ikkaku ventured, crossing his arms.

"Oh, we both thought it would be a good idea," Yenset replied. "I don't know how he managed it, but I owe him. For as long as you stay, all the milled products will be free to the two of you."

"He'll be happy to hear that.

Yenset eyed Ikkaku appraisingly. "So, do you know anything about working in a mill?"

"Not a thing," came the reply.

Yenset seemed overflowing with anticipation at the prospect of training someone from the ground up. He clapped his large hands together.

"Then let's get started!"

* * *

><p>"Master?"<p>

Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice reached through Yumichika's sleep. It reminded him of the echoes that rang through the mountains around Venla - so clear and beautiful, commanding the attention of everyone who was within hearing.

But in this world, there was only one soul to do the listening.

Yumichika had gotten up early that morning to see Ikkaku fed and off to work on his first day at the job, two weeks after having won his case. It had not been the most cheerful of partings, for Ikkaku still had no desire to be employed; but Yumichika had stood his ground and remained insistent. After all, he had other reasons - besides income - for wanting Ikkaku out of the house for a while each day. That was time he could spend with Ruri'iro Kujaku, training and . . . well, simply indulging the blissful feelings that accompanied being in his presence.

After Ikkaku had left, Yumichika had spent the morning working in the garden. Early in the afternoon, a violent thunderstorm had come upon the mountain, forcing Yumichika inside where he decided it was perfect weather for a short nap. He loved the sound of the rain falling against the shutters and the wind in the trees. Nothing was more soothing than lying before the low fire, wrapped in a blanket, feeling warm and insulated from the weather outside . . .

He had fallen off quickly.

"Master?"

Yumichika smiled and opened his eyes, expecting to find himself in the maroon room. He was, instead, surprised to discover that he was still in the cottage. He was about to close his eyes again and enter his inner world when Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice stopped him.

"No, master. Stay here."

Yumichika sat up slowly as the colors began to change around him. Ruri'iro was manifesting his inner world on the outside. He had done it before - whenever the opportunity presented itself - knowing how much his master enjoyed the beauty of the altered surroundings.

But this time, Yumichika was in for a surprise, for there before him stood Ruri'iro Kukaju, in plain view, the halo of color still swirling around him.

Yumichika's mouth fell open in disbelief. "You're-you're out here. How-how did you-"

"I felt like it," the reikon replied with an unconcerned air. "I was no longer satisified with simply looking out through your eyes. I wanted to see it for myself." He turned to look about him. "It's very nice. You made it quite beautiful in here." A pause. "Even if it is rather small."

"But I-I didn't think you could come out," Yumichika stated.

"I'm not really _out_," Ruri'iro replied. "I've allowed part of my world to spill over into yours."

"Well, yes, but you've done that before," Yumichika pointed out. "But this is the first time _you've_ shown up out here. How are you able to do it?"

Ruri'iro struck a thoughtful pose. "I just wanted to."

"But then, why didn't you do it before? When I told you I wanted you to meet Ikkaku, you said you couldn't come out," Yumichika reminded him.

"I didn't know how," came the reply.

"When did you learn?"

"Just now."

It might have sounded like a flippant answer, but Yumichika knew better. Over the preceding year, he had come to recognize that Ruri'iro Kujaku, despite his power, despite his wisdom where his master was concerned, despite his brilliance, was in the same process of learning that Yumichika was going through. In a strange way, it gave the zanpakuto a certain child-like simplicity, which was much appreciated by Yumichika, considering how difficult it was to understand the nature of his power.

Ruri'iro Kujaku spoke again. "It may have something to do with the fact that you've now handled me in my released form. It seems that you've released me from the confines of the inner world."

"But I'm not the one who released you," Yumichika said. "You said the command. I just-uh, I . . . "

"Lost all control," Ruri'iro finished the sentence. "Yes, I remember. That, too, could have played a part in freeing me. I don't know." He took a step closer. "But I'm out here now. Aren't you happy to see me? Here, in your world?"

"I'm always happy to see you," Yumichika replied. "But out here . . . can others see you, too?"

Ruri'iro Kujaku considered for a moment. "I am real. I have physical being. I would imagine that, yes, others can see me." He saw the look on his master's face. "That worries you?"

Yumichika nodded. "I'm still not ready for Ikkaku to know about you. It was a big enough risk to show him your sword form-"

"Yes, well, that day he grabbed me out of your hands, I dare say he sensed something," Ruri'iro put forth. "He just didn't know what it was. He's too much of a dullard to recognize such a beautiful power, even when it's in his own hands." He made an expression of concession. "Still, he knew something didn't feel right to him, which is fine with me. Maybe that will keep him from ever touching me again."

"So long as he thinks you're just a sword-"

"So what if he ends up being jealous because you have a zanpakuto?" Ruri'iro interrupted. "One would think that would make him worry less about you. Of course, now he thinks you're in love with a hollow."

"That's not what he thinks!" Yumichika protested. "He doesn't know what's going on or who you are because I can't give him a convincing explanation."

"You could, but you won't."

Yumichika frowned. "He would never have believed the truth."

"Until now," Ruri'iro added. "Now, I can show myself to him. How can he doubt his own eyes?"

Yumichika felt a stab of panic. "Don't do that, Ruri'iro Kujaku. I don't-it wouldn't be a good idea. I'm not ready yet."

Ruri'iro sighed. "Very well. No matter how much I disagree, you are my master. I will do as you ask." Then, true to form, the subject was forgotten as something more enticing entered his mind. "Shall we resume training?"

The contentiousness of the previous few seconds had vanished.

Yumichika smiled to himself. How he loved this being.

* * *

><p>Two months later, he could still claim his love for Ruri'iro Kujaku. But he could also claim his frustration.<p>

"Why won't it obey me? It does whatever you ask, but it won't listen to me at all!" he fumed, driving the sword's point into the ground and taking a step back in disgust, as if to cleanse himself of the entire situation.

Ruri'iro Kujaku sighed in exasperation, his natural reaction to his master's tantrum.

Perhaps tantrum was not a fair assessment. After all, there had been no crying, no kicking or screaming. But there had been frustration, then anger and now came the pouting and sulking. Ruri'iro had noticed that his master was, indeed, a _master_ of the sulk, although he couldn't imagine where he'd learned it.

"How many times must I tell you, master, _it_ is _me_. And how could I ever disobey myself," the zanpakuto explained. _"_The reason I don't do as you command is because you're speaking to me with words only. There is no intent behind what you're saying. You don't feel the desire in your heart."

"That's stupid," Yumichika countered. "I wouldn't be here trying to release this thing if I didn't feel the desire—"

Before he could finish his sentence, he found himself driven to the ground among the feather-like reeds that sprung up in waves in this part of his inner world. The point of Ruri'iro Kujaku's sword was at his throat.

"Stop calling me a thing. And stop treating my sword form as if it isn't me."

Yumichika looked up at the reikon with mild surprise. He had not realized how serious a matter this was to him.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely audible.

"Are you? " He lowered the sword and reaching down, pulled Yumichika roughly to his feet. "You treat this training like a game, and then you complain about your lack of progress. Everything you've shown me lately tells me that you don't really want this. You don't want to master shikai. You don't want to master me." He drew close. "Have you forgotten that feeling the first time you held me in your hands? Have you forgotten the desire you felt then? To possess and consume me?"

Yumichika could scarcely find his voice. The reikon's energy in that moment was pushing him close to the edge. In a matter of mere seconds, the situation had gone from one of training to one of seductive tension. It was clear to Yumichika that Ruri'iro Kujaku was still the master.

"I–I haven't forgotten," he stammered.

"You must learn to effect that release on your own," the zanpakuto demanded.

"But you said it was wrong, that our relationship shouldn't be like that," Yumichika protested.

"I'll stop you before you get to that point," Ruri'iro Kujaku assured him.

Yumichika shook his head. "No, no, I don't want to do that again. That wasn't control. I had no control! Not even over myself!"

"You will never learn unless you face that power, and you're not willing to."

"Why should I? Things are fine like this, aren't they?"

"I see you're going to fight me on this," the reikon frowned. "Why are you so stubborn? You're the one who wanted to learn shikai. But now that you've seen what it is and what it can do, you're afraid of it."

Yumichika wrenched himself free from Ruri'iro's grasp. "Yes, I'm afraid of it," he ground out. "You saw what happened. I wanted to . . . to have all of you, and if you hadn't stopped me, I would have kept going. I couldn't control myself."

"But I did stop you. I tempered your desire," Ruri'iro said. "I've been doing that for quite some time now. It's become even more important that I do so now. Madarame was right. Your riatsu is growing more powerful. That was to be expected as you and I came to know each other. And you know that your riatsu seduces. That seductive ability was pushed to a whole new level the first time you held my released form. You aren't even aware of it, because you don't take any of this training seriously." His manner was grave. "You are in possession of immense power, but you don't know anything about controlling it. _I've_ been suppressing it for you for months, because I didn't want to see you come to any harm. If you could see what would happen if I let your riatsu run wild, you wouldn't be taking this so lightly."

"I don't see how exposing myself to the temptation of shikai is going to help me master you. In fact, it does just the opposite. It makes me lose control every time," Yumichika shot back. "Maybe I was wrong to want to learn how to do it. Why do I need such a skill, anyway? I'm not a Shinigami, and I never will be. I think the only reason you agreed to teach me was because _you_ wanted to seduce _me_. And if that's the case, I don't need to learn anything." He turned to leave, but Ruri'iro snagged the back of his kimono.

"But you _will_ learn it. And if you insist, we'll do it the hard way." The reikon spun him to the ground. "You're going to want to learn how to control me. More than you've ever wanted anything in your life."

With that, he vanished, leaving Yumichika lying alone among the reeds. The sword form of his zanpakuto lay a few feet away. He regarded it warily for several seconds then reached over with trembling hand to retrieve it, the words of the Ruri'iro Kujaku's parting admonishment turning over and over in his mind.

Whatever the zanpakuto's intention, he had been clearly angry. And that made Yumichika nervous – more than nervous. It frightened him. What could Ruri'iro Kujaku have planned?

Yumichika was sure he would find out soon enough. It was time to return to the outside world.

* * *

><p>"I slave away all day down at the mill, and then I come home and you put me to work here," Ikkaku grumped.<p>

"You want the wash porch finished, don't you?" Yumichika prodded as he laid more foundation stone.

"Well, when it's done, the first bath is mine," Ikkaku said.

"That's fair," Yumichika conceded.

After several seconds, Ikkaku stood up and wiped his brow. "Damn, it's hot out here, and it's not even summer yet."

"I'll bring you something to drink," Yumichika offered. He went into the cottage and emerged with a pitcher of water, infused with sliced cone from the surrounding trees.

He poured a cup and passed it to Ikkaku who emptied the contents in one swallow. Yumichika refilled it for him and set it down on the stone wall beside where Ikkaku was working.

They worked on without speaking until the sun was barely above the horizon.

And then Ikkaku suddenly stopped, as if struck by some realization. Without diverting his attention from the pile of stones he had been laying, he asked, "What are you doing?" There was an odd inflection in his voice.

Yumichika straightened up from his job of mixing mud with tree sap to create a mortar. "Huh?"

Ikkaku took a long, slow breath. "Stop it," he said, looking straight ahead.

"Stop what? I'm doing what you told me. I'm mixing this stuff just like I did yesterday," Yumichika replied. "What am I—" His voice fell off as Ikkaku turned towards him and their gazes met. The look in Ikkaku's eyes gave him pause. "Ikkaku, what's wrong?"

"Yumichika, stop," Ikkaku repeated his demand.

"Stop what? Ikkaku, what's going on? What—"

"How can you not feel that?"

"Feel what?"

Ikkaku struggled against the footsteps that moved him closer towards Yumichika. "It's your riatsu."

Yumichika was dumbstruck. "My riatsu?"

"Damn it, Yumichika! Stop it!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Yumichika protested. And then in a moment of clarity, it came to him. This was Ruri'iro Kujaku's doing. This was the reikon's way of forcing his hand. Yet, he had not expected him to be so cruel.

"You'd better get the hell away from here," Ikkaku warned, turning away by sheer force of will. "If you can't stop it, then at least go away!"

But instead of retreating, Yumichika moved towards him. He was not going to give in to his zanpakuto's games, and he was not going to let Ikkaku be used as a pawn.

It was a foolish risk, for, unable to feel the strength of the energy he was radiating, he had no way of combatting its power. And when Ikkaku whirled around, grabbed the folds of his kimono, and dragged him to the ground, he knew his mistake.

They grappled for nearly a minute, Ikkaku's face contorted in agony at a power he was finding difficult to resist. Yumichika, struggling against him, cried out his own appeals, but they were not directed at Ikkaku. It was to Ruri'iro Kujaku that he sent up his pleas, yet it became clear right away that the zanpakuto could not be moved by begging.

Ikkaku was starting to overpower him. Yumichika's confusion and anger began to give way to fear. Ikkaku, despite himself, would go through with what he was being forced to do. Yumichika could not let that happen. Desperation gave him enough strength to break free from Ikkaku's grasp, and he raced into the cottage, Ikkaku in pursuit. He snatched up his weapon and turned to face him.

"Sake—"

He could not do it. He could not say it in front of Ikkaku. He would not use the zanpakuto's power against his closest friend. He couldn't even be sure he would be able to release the weapon on his own. For the past two weeks, it had always been Ruri'iro Kujaku who had released the shikai and then turned it over to Yumichika.

Still, even if shikai had been assured, Yumichika knew he could not release him before Ikkaku, so intent was he on keeping the weapon's true nature hidden.

Ikkaku continued to approach.

Yumichika knew he could not beat him in a physical contest. He lowered the weapon in resignation and defeat. "If this is what you want, then do it." Again, his words were not for Ikkaku.

But to Ikkaku's ears, they could only be meant for him. "I don't want this," he said through gritted teeth. "Your riatsu . . . " In that moment, the burning departed from him. The feeling of lustful desire was gone. He dropped to his knees, stunned.

"Ikkaku?" Yumichika asked, but he made no movement towards him.

Ikkaku did not answer. He looked up at Yumichika then got to his feet and fled the cottage.

"Ikkaku!" Yumichika called out after him, but Ikkaku disappeared into the woods.

The fire ignited inside Yumichika's heart. His anger raged like an inferno.

"Show yourself!" he demanded, stepping out into the meadow.

The colors around him began to change, and the sky filled with vines. The last to materialize was Ruri'iro Kujaku. He stood in the center of the meadow, his halo of light undulating around him.

"You still couldn't do it," Ruri'iro accused in a calm voice. "The man attacked you, and you still wouldn't even try to release me."

His placidity was all Yumichika needed.

"Sake kirue! Ruri'iro Kujaku!"

The weapon in his hand exploded into light. The vines sprang forth in every direction, wild and haphazard.

The reikon waved them away with his hand, but this only increased Yumichika's outrage. He sent them forth again. This time, the reikon drew his own sword and sliced the attackers away.

Attempt after attempt was met with defeat until Yumichika could no longer muster the strength to bring forth an attack. As each volley was repelled with minimal effort on the reikon's part, Yumichika's anger grew and his composure disintegrated. At last, he stumbled to the garden's stone wall and braced himself against it.

"Why did you do it?" he panted, the sweat dripping from his brow and burning his eyes. "Of all the things you could have done, why did you do that?"

Ruri'iro Kujaki came and stood before him. "To remind you of what you're dealing with," he said in a quiet, even voice. "To make you take this seriously. You think the peace you've been enjoying these past few months has been your own doing. But now you've seen that it's been me all along who has suppressed your riatsu – and mine. And you've seen what can happen when I stop."

"But why Ikkaku? Why did you have to use him like that? You know—"

"I would never have let him go through with it," Ruri'iro Kujaku interrupted. "But now you know that, if left unchecked, your riatsu will get you into trouble." He paused. "I will get you into trouble. Kimi . . ." He put his fingers under Yumichika's chin and raised his head. "I'm powerful, but I'm also dangerous. If even a man like Madarame, who cares for you as he does, is unable to fend off my power, then what hope is there that others will be able to do so?" He leaned closer. "My power is your power, and yet it's almost as if you're afraid of me. Why?"

Yumichika took a step back, away from his touch. "I've told you, I'm not afraid of you. I'm afraid I won't be able to control you."

"Of course, you will," Ruri'iro Kujaku insisted. "But you have to desire it." A pause. "You know what desire is, kimi."

Yumichika turned away.

"Master . . . "

Yumichika felt the air around him vibrate and tingle. Turning back, he saw Ruri'iro Kujaku holding his sword in full release, the vines waving gently, reaching away beyond view. It seemed as if there were thousands of them.

"This is all yours," the reikan said ceremoniously. "I am yours." Seeing the look of reluctant wonder on his master's face, he went on. "Today, you were able to release me on your own for the first time. You were angry enough that you really wanted me. You wanted my abilities. True, you had no mastery of the release, but still, you were able to at least bring forth my shikai."

Yumichika considered. It was true. He had finally released the weapon for the first time on his own – on a passion borne of anger for that very weapon. "But I couldn't defeat you."

"Did you expect to?"

"I don't know what I expected," Yumichika replied. "I was so angry, I just wanted—I wanted to—"

"To teach me a lesson?" Ruri'iro Kujaku surmised.

"To control you," Yumichika corrected.

A shadowy smile filtered through the halo of light. "That's a start. So . . . can you call me forth now?"

Yumichika raised the sword with both hands. And even though he had his doubts, he gave the command.

"Sake kirue, Ruri'iro Kujaku."

The blade split into the scythes, which elongated into the glowing vines. And as they wavered before him, he felt the sensation again, a desire so strong it was a need.

"You _do_ have the will," the reikon said, sounding pleased, even proud.

Yumichika raised his eyes and looked at the spirit of his zanpakuto through the enhanced beauty of his release. "And the desire," he added in a shaky voice. "It's—it's strong. How do you resist it?"

"You're resisting it now," Ruri'iro Kujaku pointed out.

"Barely . . . and I—I want to give in," Yumichika said, sounding desperate. "I want to—I want—"

"I know what you want," Ruri'iro interjected helpfully. "You have to keep fighting it."

"I don't think I can," Yumichika was visibly shaking now. "This is what I was afraid would happen!"

Ruri'iro waited a moment before replying. "Then take me. If you think you can." He drew his sword. "But if you lose, I will do the taking."

His words sent an unexpected thrill through Yumichika's body.

Yumichika was not deterred by the reikon's cockiness. In fact, it only increased the yearning to such a point that the vines sprung into action without any conscious thought.

And once again, Ruri'iro Kujaku easily deflected them. "You will have to do better than that."

Yumichika launched volley after volley, but he could not touch Ruri'iro Kujaku. He still could not even control the direction of the vines' attack.

Ruri'iro Kujkau did not draw his sword once during the entire contest. Instead, after nearly a dozen attempts, the zanpakuto deflected the vines with such force, their rebound knocked Yumichika flat on his back.

"You're not even making this interesting," Ruri'iro yawned.

Yumichika was breathless as he stared up into the swirling light surrounding the reikan, but instead of feeling ashamed or angry at his failures, he was experiencing something very different. Never would he have imagined that defeat could be so tantalizing. "You said you would—you would . . . do the taking. "

So, that was it. Ruri'iro Kujaku now saw his master's poor performance for exactly what it was. It had been an intentional fold done solely for the purpose of meriting whatever _taking_ Ruri'iro had in mind. And at that moment, it infuriated the reikon. It seemed he could do nothing to get through to his master on the serious nature of their training.

"I know what I said." Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice was low and simmering with disgust . "And I know you want me to. So, I will." A pause. "But not as you desire." He regarded his master through the swirling light. He needed no clarity of image to recognize the eager anticipation overflowing like a swollen river from Yumichika's riatsu. There was so much beauty there, and so much foolishness. This child—for to Ruri'iro Kujaku, Yumichika would always be a child—had no idea how to curb his hunger, how to tame his urges. And apparently, no real desire to learn how to do so. In light of the power he had access to, that deficit of knowledge, that lack of control was too dangerous to permit to go on any longer.

For one brief moment, the reikon felt a pang of regret and apprehension. He was about to do something terribly cruel, but he could see no other way.

"You want something from me because you imagine it will be beautiful," he said softly. "But that wouldn't help you grow any closer to mastering my power."

"I—I don't care," Yumichika gasped, his throat dry, his skin flushed. "I just want—I want you to keep your word."

Ruri'iro took a moment to gather his resolve. "Very well."

He held up his right arm and in his hand, the sword glittered like a jewel.

The tip of it glowed red.

Red like an ember.

Ruri'iro Kujaku vanished.

Yumichika's eyes grew wide in horror. He was on the ground in his garden back in Mito. Above him, Hinsamoi leered down at him.

_"This is your own fault. You know that, don't you? You made the wrong choice, and now I'm going to make sure everyone knows the choice you made."_

* * *

><p>His conviction, which had seemed so strong, was wavering.<p>

Was the lesson being forced upon his master worth the suffering being inflicted? The more he watched, the less certain he was. There was no physical harm being done, but that was something Yumichika would not be able to distinguish through the fog of memory the reikon had induced.

In truth, Ruri'iro Kujaku was surprised at how readily Yumichika had fallen under at the prompting of the memory. And how deeply. Ruri'iro feared he might have made a mistake. He had seen how resilient his master was. And he had been disappointed and frustrated with his master's seeming indifference to their training. But he did not want to hurt him. He might have been wrong to think Yumichika could endure something like what he was going through now.

Even more so, Ruri'iro wasn't sure if _he_ could take much more of it. The memories Yumichika was facing were fully palpable to the zanpakuto, much more so than when the original events had taken place. The strengthening of the bond between the two of them had made even memories comparable to actual events.

And the pain was as real to Ruri'iro as it was to Yumichika. His master lay unmoving before him, as if in a peaceful sleep; and yet, the anguish roiling beneath the surface . . .

If this plan did not work, Ruri'iro Kujaku was not sure what he would do, how he would be able to reach his master and move him forward in the training.

At last, he could bear it no longer. He knelt beside him. "Kimi?"

Yumichika's eyes flashed open, and he startled as if awakened from a nightmare.

But it had not been a mere dream. And both master and zanpakuto knew it.

Yumichika sat up. He was so badly shaken, he could not speak. He raised his hands and ran his fingers over his face. He was searching for an injury and seemed unconvinced that his skin was still whole.

Ruri'iro took gentle hold of one wrist to stop him, but Yumichika jerked violently away.

""Stay away!" he spluttered, his voice breaking.

Ruri'iro lowered his hand, and the two of them sat in long silence.

At length, Ruri'iro spoke cautiously. "Do you understand now?"

Yumichika turned his head slowly and stared at the reikon with hatred in his eyes. Words would not come to him. What was it he should have understood? What good could possibly come from such a dastardly trick? At that moment, he felt worlds apart from the reikon, and this was more devastating to him than the other trials he had just endured.

He dropped his head into his hands and wept bitterly.

Ruri'iro Kujaku folded his arms around him, his raiment flowing down like wings to encircle and comfort. This time, Yumichika did not spurn his attention.

After a few minutes, Ruri'iro said quietly, "You'd forgotten, hadn't you? You'd forgotten the fear and the pain."

Yumichika didn't respond.

"You have a short memory," Ruri'iro Kujaku went on. "It's both a blessing and a curse. It lets you put the hurt in the past, so your heart heals quickly. But it also allows you to forget the danger. You'd forgotten the reason why you need to learn to control me." He paused. "You know what those men felt, why they did those things to you."

"I—I don't know," Yumichika replied between sobs.

"Kimi." The power in Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice helped Yumichika collect his wits a bit. "Why did they do that to you?"

Yumichika thought about it. "They—they wanted revenge. They wanted to hurt me—and Ikkaku."

"Because you took something away from them. Your riatsu seduced them for years, and then you took yourself away from them, but they could still feel your riatsu. The lust burned so strongly in them that they had to burn it into you." When Yumichika was silent, he went on. "They felt that desire to possess – completely." He let his words sink in. "You've felt something like it yourself."

This charge roused Yumichika. "No!" he protested, angered that the reikon would even suggest he could harbor such a sickening desire.

"I'm not talking about their intentions or their motives," Ruri'iro explained. "I'm talking about what was in their hearts. It's what you incite in people. It's what I incite in you. You know how you wanted me. That is how others want you. If you want to control that, you're going to have to face the truth. You're going to have to defeat me. You're going to have to do everything you can to subdue me. If you can't do that, then . . . then we'll never be complete, and you'll never be free from the danger." He gazed intently into his master's eyes. "And you can't defeat me by giving in to your desire for me."

"But why are you doing these things to me? You said you loved me, but you-you turned Ikkaku against me and you made me go through that-that nightmare again. How could you do those things to someone you say you love?" Yumichika accused.

"I didn't want to have to do those things, but you were not progressing as you should have been," Ruri'iro deferred. "Your skills with a sword have improved, but your control over me has barely budged. This was the only thing I could think of to break you out of your complacency."

"You didn't have to make me go through that again." Yumichika's voice had gone from accusative to plaintive.

The look on his master's face made Ruri'iro Kujaku feel guilty. "I swear I'll never do it again."

"What about Ikkaku?" Yumichika asked.

Here, Ruri'iro Kujaku did not feel as much sympathy. "What about him? He'll come back."

"But if he feels my riatsu like that-"

"He won't," Ruri'iro interrupted. "I'm suppressing it again."

"And you won't use him like that again?" Yumichika pressed.

"If you would learn how to control me, you wouldn't have to ask such a question," the zanpakuto answered. "But no, I won't use him again."

After several seconds, Yumichika spoke quietly. "Do you really think I can learn to control you?"

"If you truly desire it," Ruri'iro Kujaku replied. "It will be hard work, but you can do it. You are the _only _one who can do it. I am _your_ zanpakuto."

For a fleeting moment, Yumichika wondered if all zanpakuto were like Ruri'iro Kujaku - so mysterious, so difficult and contrary. And yet, Ruri'iro was also attentive, often gentle, and-Yumichika could not deny it-loving. No matter what tactics the reikon used, Yumichika knew it was all being done for his own good. Ruri'iro Kujaku loved him, adored him, fawned and fussed over him. But he also expected much from him.

Yumichika decided at that moment, that it was time for him to start meeting those expectations.

* * *

><p>When he opened his eyes, he was lying in the warmth of his own bed. The dim light of the fire casting shadows on the walls and ceiling told him it was after sunset.<p>

"How are you feeling?"

He turned his attention to the sound of Ikkaku's voice.

"Okay," he replied in a puzzled voice, pushing up onto his elbows.

Ikkaku helped him sit up. "When I got back, I found you lying passed out in the field."

Yumichika raised his brows. "I don't remember passing out."

"Well, you were. Here, drink this."

It was just a cup of tea, but it was soothing and hot.

Ikkaku waited until Yumichika had taken a few sips before asking, "What happened?"

"I don't know," Yumichika replied. "I don't remember fainting."

"I don't mean that—well, I do; but what happened earlier? What happened with your riatsu?" Ikkaku pressed.

Yumichika shook his head. "I don't know. You know I can't feel my riatsu, so I don't know what happened."

"It suddenly became so powerful that I couldn't fight it," Ikkaku said bluntly. "It's never been that strong, and I—well, I don't get it, Yumichika. These past few months, you've really kept it under control, and now all the sudden—"

Yumichika recalled Ruriiro Kujaku's words.

_"You think you've been keeping it under control, but it's been me the whole time."_

"If I'm keeping it under control, it's not because I'm trying," Yumichika replied. "I don't even feel it, so how can I possibly control it?"

"Maybe you're doing it without being aware of it," Ikkaku put forth. "But that still wouldn't explain what happened earlier."

"Ikkaku, I don't—"

But Ikkaku cut him off. "So, that burst of riatsu wasn't something you did on purpose?"

"No."

"So that means it could happen again, and you won't be able to stop it."

Yumichika looked at him. "It won't happen again," he said.

"You can't be sure of that—"

"Yes, I am," Yumichika insisted. "It won't happen again. I know that for a certainty."

Ikkaku regarded him through narrowed eyes. "How can you be sure? Yumichika . . . what is going on? What are you hiding? Is it the hollow?"

"There is no hollow," Yumichika groaned.

"Look, I warned you. Hollows can use demon magic, too, you know. They can use kido, they use dark magic to get what they want, and if it's you they want, then—"

"Stop, Ikkaku." Yumichika's voice was stern "There is no hollow. There is no kido. If you felt something strange from my riatsu today, it's passed, isn't it? Just forget about it."

"You had to draw your sword against me," Ikkaku reminded him heatedly.

"But I didn't use it."

"That's not the point! Yumichika, don't you understand? I couldn't resist the pull! If it hadn't just stopped all of the sudden, I would have fought with you to get what I wanted," Ikkaku burst out. "I would have hurt you. Damn it! If you have no control over your riatsu, then this could happen again, and next time it may not end like this."

Yumichika frowned. How could explain this away? He couldn't. Unless he revealed the existence of his zanpakuto, none of this made any sense. Or at least, without the injection of a hollow, none of it made any sense.

He would have to resort to the lowest of defenses.

Guilt.

"Does this mean you want to leave?" he asked.

"Don't be an idiot," Ikkaku replied. "Of course, I'm not leaving. But I wish you'd stop lying to me." With that he got up and refilled the tea cup. Handing it back to Yumichika, he added, "After everything we've been through together, I never thought you'd keep secrets from me."

It was a stark accusation, but it was true and so Yumichika could feel no sense of indignation. He was keeping a secret, although it was a secret he longed to share. And he would share it when the time was right. He had to find the right way to do it, and he had to have mastered the power that he was harboring before revealing it to Ikkaku.

He could only hope Ruri'iro Kujaku would keep his word and never again use the methods he had used that afternoon. Or perhaps he could do more than hope. He could make sure he gave the zanpakuto no reason to use such methods again.

He could do as he had been proclaiming since the first day of their training. He could learn to control his zanpakuto.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 Shikai and Kido

"_And the sounds in my mind just call to me, come see.  
><em>_And the call of your eyes makes waterfalls of me.  
><em>_In the garden of your love, I'll stay a while to be  
><em>_what the seeds of the thoughts want me to be."_

_Visions of Paradise  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p>Spring slid into summer, the days long and warm, but with the heat generally not nearly as stifling as it had been in Mito. Work on the wash porch was completed well before high summer; and the garden flourished under Yumichika's talented hands and watchful eye.<p>

Ikkaku continued to work three days a week at the mill. Yumichika continued with his sewing and clothier business.

It was a comfortable, peaceful life.

And it stretched on for eighteen years.

Eighteen years was a long time to spend in one place.

Ikkaku had never done it before. The longest he'd ever managed was in Mito with Yumichika, and that had been a little over a year.

It was testimony to Ikkaku's determination to keep his promise to Yumichika that such an idyllic existence had lasted so long, considering it was not his first choice of situation. There was too much inaction, too much quiet, and almost a complete lack of conflict; but clearly such calm was exactly what Yumichika needed.

It was incredible, really. Ikkaku had never seen Yumichika so happy. This amazed him, for he had seen moments of great joy come upon Yumichika in the past; but this was not a moment – it was a continuous thing. And it made the joys of the past seem small and insignificant.

Yumichika's confidence had soared beyond even its previous heights – and with good reason. His beauty had exploded from a mere physical asset into something much greater. Everything he did, every word he uttered, every glance, every movement was infused with a radiance that allowed a glimpse at the inner workings powering the outward soul. Over the years, he had developed the ability to freely acknowledge his attractiveness without becoming a slave to it.

On top of that, his fighting skills had improved faster than Ikkaku would have thought possible. Ikkaku had taken to training him on and off, and Yumichika had been a willing learner. Still, the rate of his improvement and the fact that his fighting style did not match that of his instructor kept Ikkaku's wary mind humming. But eighteen years of maintaining a suspicion was exceedingly difficult, and eventually Ikkaku consigned the possibility of hollows and nefarious motives to a remote, although not banished, part of his mind. After all, if a hollow had been after Yumichika, it would have gotten him by now.

Ikkaku had no way of knowing the real reason behind Yumichika's joy, behind his improved skills, behind his ever-increasing self-assuredness.

It was all owing to Ruri'iro Kujaku's influence. The zanpakuto's tutelage of his master in the art of wielding his new power had gone on for day after day, year after year, filled with excitement and the thrill of new knowledge. Of course, it was also long and arduous; and this was not due solely to Yumichika's short-comings.

The truth was that Ruri'iro Kujaku had some drawbacks of his own. Foremost among them was the flightiness which seemed more and more to be one of his chief characteristics. He moved quickly between emotions yet indulged each to the fullest. He was a being drawn by the lure of the experience, and yet once the experience was over, he moved on just as quickly to the next. In addition, so great was his absorption with beauty that he was easily distracted from other tasks. Often, in the middle of training, his attention would be pulled away by some physical aspect of the inner world in which they spent most their time together. He would catch sight of a peacock and be off on an admiring tangent. The floating filaments would catch the light in just such a manner as to draw his eye; and where his eye went, so did his attention. The sound of the waves crashing would freeze him in mid-action, and he would listen, motionless, for minutes on end. He would lose his train of thought completely.

On the rare occasions when he manifested their inner world into the outside, he usually lasted no more than a few minutes before the wonder of his surroundings made training impossible, and all he wanted to do was enjoy the view and indulge every new sensation.

But of course, the source of greatest distraction was also the source the greatest beauty, and that was his master.

Over the course of the first two years above Venla, as the two had come to know each other more and more, the stronger their bond became. And as Yumichika advanced, slow as it was, his attractiveness in Ruri'iro Kujaku's eyes increased exponentially.

There were times, and they were often, when in the midst of a close-fought spar, Ruri'iro Kujaku would simply stop fighting and take his master in an enduring embrace. At other moments, he would stop wherever he was, flop down to the ground, taking Yumichika with him, and simply lie there beside him. The nearness was enough.

Yumichika loved him for it. He admired the way his zanpakuto could so easily turn off the rigors of a contest and fall into raptures in an instant. There was great honesty in Ruri'iro's Kujaku's scatterbrained affection, which was all the more incredible in light of his wisdom and power.

Ruri'iro Kujaku had kept his word and never subjected Yumichika again to the sordid memories of the past. And Yumichika showed that he had learned from the experience by working in earnest to master his zanpakuto.

Even so, ten years after having first released Ruri'iro Kujaku on his own, he still had not mastered control of the vines. As happened every time he held the released Ruri'iro Kujaku in his hands, he was driven to near-madness by the raging desire that flowed into him from the weapon. As a result, his attacks were unfocused and far-flung. He had become an accomplished swordsman, but the same could not be said for his use of shikai. The vines were an enigma. He could not direct them towards the target with any consistency, and even when he got them moving in the right direction, the reikon deflected them with ease.

Ruri'iro Kujaku's methods for teaching his master how to tame his wild desire were almost as difficult to contend with as the desire itself. In some odd way, the zanpakuto was able to intensify the attraction his master felt for him. There were times when the halo around him would glow an inviting green, and Yumichika would fall victim almost immediately. The power in his hands, coupled with the irresistible pull of Ruri'iro Kujaku's beauty, rendered him helpless. It was only the pleasure in each defeat that softened the disappointment he felt at his failures.

His first victory came, at last, not in his inner world, but in the altered world that accompanied Ruri'iro Kujaku whenever he ventured into the outside.

It happened in high summer of the tenth year after the first release, in the heat of midday, when Yumichika liked to take laundry down to the stream as a pretense for what he really liked to do, which was to swim and lounge on the rocks in the sun. At least, if he did some laundry, he could claim that he had been working and not just loafing.

In the woods behind the cottage, slightly downhill, there was a short flat water terrace at the foot of a formidable run of cascades. A deep, dark pool had formed at the base of the falls, tapering down to disappear again as a bubbling mountain stream through a short line of trees into a water meadow.

The water terrace was Yumichika's favorite spot, part shaded and part in direct light throughout the day as the sun moved, The water made a pleasant sound as it plunged into the pool, and the sound of birds singing made the place seem enchanted.

Coming to the edge of the pool, he set down his basket and his zanpakuto. He had brought the weapon with him with the intent of practicing a bit after laundry and a rest.

He pulled the hem of his garment, a one-piece loose-fitting smock-type affair, up between his legs and looped the material through the rope belt cinched at his waist. He waded into the shallows and began his task. He'd not brought many items with him this time, as he had seen how pleasant the day was, and he really just wanted to get down to the business of pampering himself.

Thirty minutes later, he was finished with his work; and with the clothes hung on tree limbs or laid out on the rocks to dry, he stripped naked, climbed to the top of the lowest cascade where the deepest water was, and dove in.

It was an exhilarating feeling as he arced through the water, coming up in the middle of the pool. Opening his eyes, he saw that the surrounding woods had taken on changed colors. The vines hung in the air.

A broad smile came over his features. "I knew you'd come out."

"Of course," Ruri'iro Kujaku replied. "You know I love to be with you in places like this."

Yumichika turned to see him perched on the highest rock, hunkered down much like a bird on a crag.

"Apparently not enough to show up when I was doing the wash," Yumichika poked.

"What? Do you honestly think I would sully myself with the laundry?" Ruri'iro Kujaku said with an indignant flip of his head. "You're the human. That's your job." He straightened up. "Speaking of clothes, put some on, and let's do some training."

Yumichika floated on his back and smiled up at him. "I just got in," he protested. "I don't want to train right now. I want to relax." A slyness came into his eye. His voice was suggestive. "Why don't you come in?"

"It's tempting," Ruri'iro Kujaku replied, "But I'll refrain."

"Why?"

"Because you still can't control yourself around me," Ruri'iro Kujaku stated bluntly. "Look at you now, showing off your body in front of me."

Yumichika was not deterred. "But you're the only one I show off for now. Doesn't that prove how far I've come?"

"It proves nothing," Ruri'iro Kujaku replied. "It only shows how little control you have over your desire." He paused. "And if I really were to shed my raiment, you would be done in."

Yumichika liked the sound of that. He felt almost giddy at the prospect of such an encounter. "I'll take that chance," he offered.

"But I won't," Ruri'iro Kujaku replied, dropping from the rock and gliding down to land on the shore where his zanpakuto form lay on the ground. "I see you just leave me wherever you feel like it."

"I wanted to bring you with me," Yumichika replied. "And who's going to come out here anyway?"

"You shouldn't leave me where others can find me," Ruri'iro persisted. "That's dangerous."

Yumichika did not reply. He continued to try and break through Ruri'iro's stolidness by employing his most alluring expressions and provocative poses.

But the zanpakuto was not swayed.

"Now, come out and put on some clothes so we can practice a bit," he insisted.

Yumichika was in a playful mood. "I won't."

Ruri'iro Kujaku sighed in exasperation.

"You'll have to come in and get me," Yumichika challenged.

"If I wanted you out of there, I could do it without having to go in myself," Ruri'iro replied.

"Ha! Go ahead and try!"

Ruri'iro was at a loss. Yumichika's challenge had not been a cocky one, for in a certain sense, Yumichika did have the upper hand. Ruri'iro had never used the vines against Yumichika. Not once. It was something he absolutely refused to do. Even knowing that he could control his own power, he did not want to subject his master to even the slightest inkling of what it felt like to be a victim of his shikai.

Yumichika could barely manage the hunger that his zanpakuto inspired, and he had no idea what it meant to be on the receiving end of that hunger. Ruri'iro Kujaku was not convinced his master was seasoned enough to handle that discovery. There was something incredibly intimate and yet incredibly cruel about Ruri'iro's ability. For Yumichika, it would be too reminiscent of past injuries.

And so the reikon would have to resort to other means to get his master out of the water. The first and most obvious choice was one that never failed. All he ever had to do to lure Yumichika was to project a little more of his riatsu.

Yumichika felt the pull immediately. And while he usually never fought against it, this time he wanted to indulge in a bit of contentious fun. In a match of wills, he knew he would lose, but the struggle would be worth the effort.

Except that there was no struggle. The game was over before it had even started.

Ruri'iro Kujaku, hearing the call of some woodland bird, suddenly seemed to forget all about his master and the challenge he had thrown down, all about his desire to train.

"Do you hear that?" he said in an delighted voice. "What a beautiful sound!"

He listened as the bird sang again. "I must see what kind of bird has such a voice!" With that, he turned and headed away from the pool.

Yumichika felt deflated. "Hey!" he called out, but Ruri'iro ignored him and continued into the woods.

A growl of frustration puffed from Yumichika's lips. He had been looking forward to some fun, and now Ruri'iro was fluffing off on one of his addlepated fancies.

"Come back here!" he demanded, swimming to the water's edge. "We're not finished yet!"

Ruri'iro seemed not to even hear him, although he clearly must have. It was simply that he was too engrossed in his search to pay any heed.

Now miffed, Yumichika pulled himself up onto the shore where his zanpakuto was laying and took the weapon in his hands.

"Are you more interested in some bird than me?" he called out.

His inquiry was met with a gleeful cry. "Oh, look! I've found him! Look, up there in the top branches! How plain he is to have such a voice!"

Yumichika spoke under his breath. "Sake kirue . . . "

"Kimi, look at him! Even though he's so plain, he's beautiful! Isn't that funny?"

" . . . Ruri'iro Kujaku."

"Come and take—" As Ruri'iro Kujaku turned towards his master, he was met with the vines of his released form. He was instantly entwined at his arms and waist and held fast. A pleased smile showed through the halo.

"You could at least have put some clothes on first," he teased.

"I—I caught you," Yumichika said in awe. "I really did it." A small laugh escaped his lips. "I did it!"

"Yes, you did," Ruri'iro Kujaku agreed. "And I have to admit, I wasn't expecting it."

Yumichika hesitated. "Now that I have you, what do I do?"

"You don't know?"

"I know—I know what I want to do, but—but—" He moved closer, taking short, measured steps. The craving was stronger than ever before, but so was Yumichika.

"Do it," Ruri'iro Kujaku encouraged softly. "You won't hurt me."

Yumichika was not afraid of hurting him; he was afraid of losing himself in the intensity of the moment. Still, he wanted him. He wanted him more than he had ever wanted anything in his life.

He drew closer, not even sure what he was doing.

Then it happened.

His body felt as if every nerve had suddenly come alive. The weapon in his hand was no longer simply imparting its own power; it was bringing something alive in its wielder's hand. Looking down, he was stunned to see he was surrounded by a blue-green aura of light. It rose from his body like smoke from a fire. His vision blurred, and he staggered backwards several steps before finding himself frozen in place. He could not have moved even if he'd wanted to.

Never had he felt so powerful and so weak at the same time.

It was the most pleasurable sensation he'd ever experienced.

And yet . . . it was incomplete. There was a barrier between him and the weapon, between him and Ruri'iro Kujaku, and he could not overcome it. The harder he tried, the more desperate his longing, the greater his frustration until he thought he would explode.

"You—you're h-holding back," he gasped, his muscles taut and straining.

"No, I'm not. This is how I work." Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice sounded like it was coming to him across a canyon.

"I—I can't—I can't—" Yumichika could not find the words or the breath to say what he was going through.

Ruri'iro Kujaku watched carefully. At that moment, his master was so erotically beautiful that he feared he would not have the presence of mind to guide him safely through the experience. He could easily abandon his reason and give in to his senses, but that would be a waste of the moment.

"Look,"' he said gently. "Open your eyes and see what you're doing."

It was a struggle, but at last, Yumichika managed to open his eyes.

"Look at the vines," Ruri'iro instructed.

Yumichika, eyes half-closed and looking through a haze, did as he was told.

Buds were forming on the vines.

"You must hold on until they bloom," Ruri'iro Kujaku instructed. "Do you hear me, kimi? You can't give in yet."

Yumichika wasn't sure which faculty he was using to obey the reikon's command. It was as if instinct had taken over. His body knew what to do – only it had never done it before. He wasn't even sure how his body was managing to hold together under the strain of what was happening around him. What was going on? He did not know. He honestly did not know. Rational thought was gone. All that remained was pure, raw sensation.

And then he felt a tingle, a pinprick of release, followed by another and then another. He had the impression of hundreds of tiny strings being cut, freeing him bit by bit from the force that drove him. Looking up, he saw the buds opening one-by-one. His head began to swim, and his muscles turned to sand. He collapsed.

After an indeterminate time, he heard Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice coming to him in an echo. "Open your mouth."

It was an odd request.

"Kimi, open your mouth."

Yumichika complied. He felt a silky softness caress his tongue.

"Close." The reikon's voice again. "Just suck on that for a few seconds."

Instantly, Yumichika felt his equilibrium returning. The energy he had exerted releasing Ruri'iro Kujaku flowed back into his body, replenishing what was lost. But there was something else besides, something so amazing, so mind-boggling that he thought he must be imagining things.

Could it be—was it even possible—he was taking Ruri'iro Kujaku into his own body? At that moment, he felt as if the two of them were one, and it gave him such great comfort that he would have been happy to stay that way forever.

"That's enough. I don't want you to overdo it."

Yumichika felt whatever it was he'd been sucking on removed from his mouth. He opened his eyes and when his vision cleared, he drew in a sharp breath. He was lying on the ground, propped against Ruri'iro Kujaku's leg, the reikon's arm supporting his shoulders.

But the face he was looking into . . .

Ruri'iro Kujaku was gazing down at him from an image of perfect clarity. Only a faint blue-green glow radiated around him, but his image was unobstructed.

The face was perfect, flawless, peering down at him with Persian eyes the same color as his own. The mouth was curled into a gentle smile, while the overall expression was one of wonder and tenderness. Two plaits of blue-black hair hung shoulder-length in front of his ears, and the rest of his hair, reaching down below his waist, was tied back in a single, loose braid. His head was bound in a cream-colored lungee, crowned with a ridge of red-orange feathers.

What Yumichika could see of the body gave him pause. The chest and shoulders were bare, the muscles smooth and well-defined. The sides of his torso and his upper arms were covered with a layer of what appeared to be fine feathers – the same black, iridescent feathers as those on the peacocks. The feather coat closed to a "V" just below his waist, and a gold belt hung at his hips. An elaborate skirt of green feathers dropped from the belt, much longer than the ones that covered his body. The same green feathers adorned his arms from the elbows down. It was these feathers that had given him the appearance of wings and a tail.

Yumichika was speechless, so overcome was he with the sheer exotic sexuality of the being looking down at him.

"I—I can see you," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. Confronted with such splendor, he could manage nothing more.

Ruri'iro Kujaku had to steady his nerves before speaking. He could not believe it was proving this difficult to maintain his composure. In his arms lay the measure against which anything that wished to call itself beautiful must compete.

"I can see you, too," he said. If he had loved his master before, he was consumed with passion for him now. The beauty he had seen through the haze paled in comparison to what he saw now. Even his own beauty could not compare, and when Yumichika reached up to touch his fingertips against his cheek, he turned his face into the caress, indulging the intimacy of the moment.

"Your skin . . . it feels like mine," Yumichika remarked. His hand moved to feel over the feathers on the reikon's arm. "But you're not human."

"You're right. I'm _not_ human," Ruri'iro agreed . "I'm a zanpakuto." He could not take his eyes off Yumichika. He wanted to tell him how beautiful he was, but words would not be sufficient. For as much as he had told his master to resist the pull, he found himself on the verge of giving in. He could not let this moment pass.

"I'm _your_ zanpakuto," he whispered, then craning his head down, he touched his lips gently to his master's. Once, then again, lingering the second time. As he sunk into the kiss and felt Yumichika's arms wrap around his back, he recognized it as the moment when his master first gained control over him. Yumichika had tapped the source of their power. It had not been a conscious action. It'd just happened. Yumichika had felt a fierce desire to possess and consume the victim who had been ensnared in the vines. And he had fulfilled that desire, but in a way he did not even know was possible.

Ruri'iro Kujaku had permitted him to siphon only a small bit of riatsu during his entanglement – for his master's safety more than his own - for even a drop of Ruri'iro Kujaku's riatsu was potent enough to bring the flowers to bloom. But the transfer of that riatsu from the vines into his own body was what Yumichika had been trying so hard to attain, not knowing it was impossible in the manner which he was attempting. The movement was in two parts: into the vines, activated by Yumichika's desire; then into the body, made possible by Ruri'iro Kujaku's willingness to give away what he had taken.

And Ruri'iro was willing to do so.

Only now, for the first time, he felt vulnerable. Vulnerable to his master's allure. Vulnerable to his master's desires.

So vulnerable that he was succumbing at this very moment. But it was the sweetest defeat he could ever have imagined; for despite his own tender approach, he was not met with the same restraint. Yumichika responded with all the passion and abandon of the eternal nineteen-year-old that he was. He drew Ruri'iro Kujaku down on top of him.

Ruri'iro Kujaku slid one arm beneath Yumichika's back and pulled him close, intensifying the contact. His master's nakedness made him shiver with delight, but there was also apprehension. As rapturous as the moment made him feel, he knew something was not quite right. Still, it was hard to concentrate with his master writhing beneath him, refusing to come up for air and growing more and more persistent with each passing second.

All Ruri'iro Kujaku wanted at that moment was to be ravaged by his master. He wanted his defenses stripped away, his will to be laid out in tatters. He wanted this beautiful creature to conquer him.

Yumichika was clearly more than willing to comply. It was not long before he had rolled Ruri'iro Kujaku onto his back and pressed down against him, his mouth never stopping, his hands exploring as if they'd never touched another body before.

Ruri'iro Kujaku was admittedly stunned by the voracity of his master's appetite, but it was so blissful that he was little troubled by it.

Until he had reason to be.

"I—I want you . . . out of all this," Yumichika said around the kisses he continued to deliver. As he spoke, he tugged at the skirt of feathers at Ruri'iro Kujaku's waist.

The reikon felt a chill run down his spine – hardly competition for the warmth he felt otherwise.

"Kimi, I don't think that's a good idea." His voice was little more than a breath.

"Do as I say," Yumichika commanded, sliding his fingers beneath the gold belt, apparently not willing to wait for consent. "You belong to me. Do as I say."

Ruri'iro Kujaku needed to hear no more to know that things had spiraled out of hand. True, he might be falling under his master's dominance, but it was still his responsibility to teach him properly. And what he saw right now was the appearance of wanton lust and perverse selfishness. This was not how he wanted their relationship to be. It was not how he wanted his master to be.

Forcing down his own desires and going against every emotion he was feeling at the moment, he nudged Yumichika away.

But Yumichika wasn't having any of it. "We're not finished," he panted, his voice containing a warning.

"Yes, we are," Ruri'iro Kujaku replied, trying again to gently separate them.

"You can't just take yourself away from me," Yumichika protested, grappling to hold on.

The faint light surrounding the reikon flared, forcing Yumichika to draw back suddenly. "What are you doing?" he demanded angrily.

"Look at yourself," Ruri'iro Kujaku replied calmly. "You would take me against my will, if you could."

"No! I just want to—"

"I know what you want, and you can't have it. Now, get a hold of yourself."

"But you started this! Now you want to stop!"

"I didn't realize how strongly it would affect you. We need to slow down," Ruri'iro stated, still calm but forceful.

"Slow down? It's taken years to get to this point!" Yumichika cried.

"With good reason, apparently," Ruri'iro Kujaku replied. "Just now, you sounded like the men who took you in Mito—"

This was too much for Yumichika to bear. In a fit of rage, he snatched his sword from the ground. "Sake kirue! Ruri'iro Kujaku!"

This time the vines sprang forth and into action immediately.

Ruri'iro Kujaku did not even attempt a defense. He allowed himself to be caught; then as he stood bound, he regarded his master with impassive eyes.

"Why-why don't you want me like I want you?" Yumichika demanded, his voice wavering.

"I do want you," Ruri'iro Kujaku answered with an evenness that was in glaring contrast to Yumichika's floundering control of his own emotions.

"Then why—why won't you—why won't you—"

"Because I love you."

But even Ruri'iro Kujaku's professions of love were not enough to deter Yumichika from his current course of action. "Then prove it to me." His voice fell between a command and a plea. "Prove you love me!"

The reikon sighed. "Have I not already done so?"

Yumichika was shaking. "No! Not in this way! And this is what I want _now_."

"So, you would do to me what they did to you."

This statement so infuriated Yumichika that, without any purposeful effort, the vines tightened around Ruri'iro Kujaku – enough to elicit a gasp of pain.

"Don't you ever say that again!" Yumichika raged.

"If it's not true, then let me go," Ruri'iro Kujaku replied.

Yumichika struggled for several long seconds. At last, the vines released the reikon and receded quietly into the hilt. Yumichika dropped to his knees, still trembling and at a loss for words.

Ruri'iro Kujaku did not approach him. He knew that any physical contact would only renew the yearning in both of them.

For a long time, they both remained in silence. Yumichika did not raise his head.

When Ruri'iro Kujaku felt the subsiding of his master's riatsu, he spoke. "Are you alright?"

"No," Yumichika replied softly, still keeping his eyes trained on the ground. "I'm confused. I don't know what just happened."

"Shall I tell you?"

"I don't know if I can stand to hear it," Yumichika admitted.

"You finally realized my ability . . . your ability," Ruri'iro Kujaku stated.

"Oh? The ability to make people lose control?" Yumichika replied caustically.

Ruri'iro overlooked the childishness. "Some part of you has learned how to direct the vines towards the object you desire. The next step will be moving that ability into conscious thought—"

"But what happened after that?" Yumichika asked. "I had you. You were captured, but then . . . it . . . it felt like—like . . . "

"You used shikai to take my riatsu," Ruri'iro Kujaku explained.

Yumichika finally raised his head and regarded him with a stunned expression. "To take your riatsu?"

Ruri'iro nodded. "Yes. But since you were, in effect, using _me_ against _me_, I could control how much you were able to take. For now, at least. Eventually, you will be able to drain every drop from me if you so wish it."

"Drain your riatsu?" Yumichika asked, disbelieving it even as he inquired.

"Or the riatsu of whomever you're fighting."

"Are you—are you saying that I—your power is to take others' riatsu?" Yumichika asked.

Ruri'iro Kujaku nodded. "Yes, master. That is what you felt when you had me ensnared. I take as much riatsu from the enemy as you direct me to," he explained. "When the flowers bloomed, normally that would have signaled death for an opponent. Of course, it was different this time, because I was your opponent. And when I gave you the petal, that was what restored you. That was me giving you however much riatsu you needed."

Yumichika was flabbergasted. "You . . . can drain others of their riatsu."

"_You_ can drain others of their riatsu," Ruri'iro corrected. "I am just the implement through which you do it. Without you, I am only a sword like any other." He turned and started walking back to the pond.

Yumichika followed him. "I—I don't believe it," he breathed, sounding both eager and scared.

"Why not? It's a power that suits you perfectly," Ruri'iro replied. "And you've been using a form of it for years without even knowing; just that instead of draining riatsu, you were draining others of their willpower, their resistance."

"But a power like this . . . it's too big, it's too dangerous," Yumichika protested. "How am I supposed to control something like that?"

"You started to control it today," Ruri'iro pointed out. "It will take many months, maybe years to learn complete control, but today was the start. You know now that you _can_ control me." He paused. "I know it, too. Remember I told you before that I was dangerous. You don't want to use my power carelessly, kimi. I can cause a great deal of harm from just a small mistake on your part. If you're going to move forward from here, you must learn to rein in your desire."

"But—but you're all I desire," Yumichika stammered. "How can I fight that? The lure is too powerful."

He saw the way his master was looking at him. "I suppose I _am_ more difficult to deal with than most other zanpakutos," Ruri'iro said thoughtfully. "After all, with them, it's just a matter of learning how to fight and bringing forth ever greater physical abilities. Brute strength, if you will. But with me, it's all about mastering the intangible." He smiled. "At least with me, there's less blood."

"Mastering the intangible?"

"Yes. After all, kido isn't exactly combat arms," Ruri'iro Kujaku replied nonchalantly.

"Kido?" Yumichika took hold of his arm and stopped him.

Ruri'iro regarded him with surprise. "Well, yes . . . kido is the basis of your power. That's what I'm made of, what the vines are made of. You didn't know that?"

Yumichika shook his head.

Ruri'iro went on. "Master, you weren't made to be a vicious, brutal fighting machine. You were made for beauty, and your fighting style has to be beautiful, too. Draining an enemy of his riatsu is certainly more ascetically pleasing than hacking him to bits."

"Kido . . . " Yumichika was astounded.

"Does that bother you?"

"No, no," Yumichika replied. "In fact, I . . . I'm fascinated by the idea. But I'm still afraid of having so much power."

"Which is why you must focus all your energies on your training until you master me," Ruri'iro explained. He took on a haughty, self-important air. "Kido is much more difficult to master than plain physical zanpakutos."

They came to the pond.

Ruri'iro picked up Yumichika's clothes. "Here. Get dressed."

Yumichika began to dress. "Do you know other zanpakutos?" he asked, not that he really cared, but anything to stop thinking about the daunting task of managing such an incredible power. "You said you're more difficult than the others."

"No," Ruri'iro Kujaku replied. "I'm just supposing it must be that way."

They walked back to laundry, now dry, and as Yumichika picked up the pieces and put them into the basket, he found that avoiding eye contact gave him the courage to ask the only real concern on his mind.

"Ruri'iro Kujaku . . .what will happen if I . . . if I don't learn how to control you?"

Ruri'iro was pensive. "I don't know. I suppose you would go on as you did today, a slave to your passions."

"I don't want that," Yumichika stated.

"Neither do I," Ruri'iro agreed. "Even I fell victim to you today."

"But you were strong enough to stop," Yumichika reminded him.

"Because I knew that the kind of love I have for you is far beyond that which demands your body," Ruri'iro explained. "That is a lesson you have yet to learn."

His words struck a chord, and when Yumichika looked up again, it was to see that the clarity was gone. The reikon was once again obscured by the halo.

"I knew it would only last a short while," Ruri'iro Kujaku lamented. "It was a reflection of the first time you had a clear view into my ability. Now, we are both moving through fog again."

"Will we ever be able to see each other like that again?" Yumichika asked.

"I hope so," Ruri'iro Kujaku replied. "It will all depend on you."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 17 The Shinigami

"_In the world of me and you,  
><em>_All is forgotten when we're inside.  
><em>_And the words that pass us by,  
><em>_I am not listening, all of it's lies."_

_It's Up to You  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p>In July of the following year, there came to the village, two Shinigami.<p>

Their mission was to hunt down a hollow that apparently had the ability to take on human form. They had tracked it as far as the upstream valley, but then it had eluded them. They entered Venla on a cool morning late in the month. They both cut intimidating figures, but their manners were friendly, if a bit formal and stiff.

Ikkaku and Yumichika were down in the village market when they appeared.

As the Shinigami inquired of the villagers, Ikkaku maintained his distance, watching them with disdain from afar.

"Why would anyone want to be a Shinigami?" he growled in a low voice.

Yumichika raised an eyebrow. "It's a noble calling, isn't it? Protecting the inhabitants of Soul Society?"

"Noble? That's crap," Ikkaku spat. "Soul Society is no different than the world of the living, and if that wasn't worth protecting, then this isn't either."

Yumichika did not argue with him. He did not chastise him for his caustic attitude. He had come to understand years ago that Ikkaku's pain was something he could not reach. And he figured it was best to leave it where it was. The time might come. It might not. Either way, he didn't know enough about Ikkaku's past to be of any use any way.

Yumichika's eyes were naturally drawn to the swords at their waists. "They're carrying zanpakutos."

"Of course, they are," Ikkaku grunted. "What else would they be carrying? Every Shinigami has to have a zanpakuto."

"I wonder what powers they have," Yumichika said, more to himself than to Ikkaku.

"Who knows? I've heard that a lot of the rank-and-file never even learn to release their zanpakuto," Ikkaku said derisively. "Imagine having a weapon with all that capability and being too weak or too stupid to master it."

Yumichika grinned. "Somehow, I get the idea that it's not easy to master a zanpakuto."

"Huh! It would be if the wielder was strong enough," Ikkaku said. "It's just a sword, a piece of metal. If a man can't bend it to his will, he has no business wielding it."

Now a small laugh escaped Yumichika's lips. "You speak as if you have a zanpakuto."

Ikkaku turned a searing glare on him. "I can't imagine anything worse."

Before Yumichika could reply, a great commotion arose. The Shinigami had successfully tracked the hollow to the form of a young girl. Discovered, the hollow broke into its original shape, a creature demonic in appearance with pincer-like arms, clawed feet, and a bone-ridged mask of face.

It rose to an impressive height above the rooftops and spewed what looked like boiling tar from its mouth.

Ikkaku's reaction was immediate – and shocking. He had fully expected that his first action would be to leap into the fray. He had never battled a hollow – not in all his years of wandering. And what an amazing opportunity this would be!

But instead, he found himself grabbing Yumichika by the arm and pulling him down one of the streets that lead out of the market square. He found an open door about halfway down the street and pushed Yumichika inside.

"You stay here!" he ordered.

"What are you doing?" Yumichika demanded.

"Getting you out of the way and going to have some fun!" Ikkaku replied, taking an enthusiastic step back towards the action, but Yumichika caught his arm.

"Are you out of your mind? That's a hollow, and there are two Shinigami already out there! Let them handle it!"

"Not a chance," Ikkaku grinned wickedly. "This is just what I need! A reason to fight without causing any trouble." He pulled free and was gone before Yumichika could stop him.

Yumichika was about to follow when he heard a voice behind him.

"Guess he's been waiting a long time for this."

Yumichika turned to see the owner of the shop into which he'd been thrust. He knew the man well.

"Aslan," he greeted him. "I wish I could have stopped him." A pause. "But he'd be very angry if I had."

Aslan gave an understanding nod. "Yes, one can see that Madarame is a fighting man."

"You can see that, huh?"

"A man would have to be blind to miss it," Aslan replied. "But he's managed to restrain himself very admirably all the time you two have lived here."

"Yes, he has." Yumichika felt an odd pang of guilt.

"So, the opportunity to fight a hollow must be a boon to him," Aslan suggested.

"I just hope the Shinigami are as understanding," Yumichika replied, then excused himself to go after Ikkaku. He came to the village square in the midst of chaos. The hollow had taken on a form of greater immensity and lethality. A number of structures had been destroyed or damaged. Injured people lay in the streets.

And to complicate matters, Ikkaku had leapt full-force into the battle despite the continued orders of the Shinigami for him to retreat and find shelter. Instead, Ikkaku fought like a madman, his eyes wide and gleaming, his maniacal laughter resounding over the mayhem.

It was a disconcerting spectacle to Yumichika, for he had truly believed that all the years of peace and solitude had changed Ikkaku, had lessened the coarser parts of his nature. He saw now that he had been wrong. The lust for conflict, the thrill of a physical contest still existed. They merely had been well-managed beneath the veneer of resigned acceptance.

At that moment, Yumichika realized just how much Ikkaku had given up for him; and even though he considered it a sacrifice for the better, he could not help but feel as if he had taken something away, degraded the man that Ikkaku was. It was that thought that held him at the edge of the scene, an observer rather than a participant. For him to interfere would not only get in the way of the Shinigami, but it would be an insult to Ikkaku. He crossed his arms anxiously over his chest and waited.

Not even a minute had passed when he heard a woman's voice erupt in screams and sobs. Looking to his right across the green, he saw a mother who had apparently just discovered her daughter, a child of no more than five, lying on the ground either dead or injured.

He was at her side before he even realized he was moving. Kneeling down, he immediately saw the reason for the woman's distress. The child's lower body was crushed and twisted. There was still life there, but it was only a matter of minutes, maybe seconds.

Yumichika sought out Ruri'iro Kujaku in the privacy of his mind.

"Can you heal this child like you healed me?"

There was a long, thoughtful silence. "I don't know."

"Try," Yumichika ordered.

"You will have to release me," Ruri'iro told him. "Do you think you are strong enough to do that with other people around? If you don't have control, it will be a disaster."

Yumichika grit his teeth. Not only was his control at issue, but if he released here, Ikkaku would see him, and everything would be revealed. He was not ready for that. Without wasting another second, he scooped the child into his arms and raced down one of the side streets that led away from the square. He ran until he came to the northern outskirts of the village, an isolated area between the stream and the foot of the mountains. Here, as the mother looked on, he laid the child on the ground. His hand to flew to the hilt at his waist.

"Kimi—" Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice was calm and even.

Yumichika drew his sword. "Sake kirue—"

"Kimi, it's too late."

Yumichika froze.

"The child's riatsu is gone."

Now that he had stopped his frantic pace, Yumichika felt it. Ruri'iro Kujaku was right. The child was dead. Yumichika fell to his knees, as if a great weight had been leveled across his shoulders. A cry of anguish trailed from his lips. "We could have saved her."

"You don't know that," Ruri'iro put forth.

"If I hadn't waited—"

"That's not important right now," the kujaku interrupted. "See to the woman."

Yumichika, to his own self-reproachment, had forgotten about the mother. Turning, he saw her regarding him with a distraught and confused expression. He realized he still had Ruri'iro Kujaku in his hand, and he could only imagine what the woman must be thinking.

"I'm sorry," he said, slipping the sword back into the sheath. "I thought—I thought I could save her, but . . . "

The woman came forward and knelt beside the body of her child.

Yumichika watched her in silence for several minutes. He did not feel it would be right to leave her under the circumstances. As he stood there looking on, a memory began to take shape in his mind. It was his first memory as a departed soul – the memory of his own mother cradling his body in her arms after he had died. So great had been her grief that he had been able to feel it as his own. Seeing this woman now, Yumichika wondered if his own mother were still alive. Or had she died and come to Soul Society? If so, did she think of him? Was she looking for him?

Yumichika put a hand on the woman's shoulder. "We should take her home. I'll carry her." He leaned down and gently took the child into his arms. "Where do you live?"

* * *

><p>Damn it, where was Yumichika? Couldn't he do the one thing Ikkaku had asked and just stay in place?<p>

With the hollow having been defeated, Ikkaku now stomped through the village, looking for him. What with the ever-improving fighting skills Yumichika was developing, it would not have surprised Ikkaku if he'd decided to try his hand at combat, but Ikkaku had not seen him during the fight; so where had he gone?

He had searched everywhere. The only place that remained was the cottage, even though it was unlikely that Yumichika would have left the village without telling him. Still, Yumichika could be peculiar like that from time to time, so Ikkaku took the road north towards the mountains.

As he came to the juncture where the valley road intersected his own, he was relieved to see Yumichika approaching from his right.

"Where the hell have you been?" Ikkaku bellowed as they drew near. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"I had something I needed to do," Yumichika replied in a subdued voice.

Now that he knew Yumichika was safe, Ikkaku really had no interest in whatever activities had occupied Yumichika's time. He was too overflowing with excitement.

"You missed a great fight!" he enthused.

"I don't see what's great about people dying," Yumichika said.

"Tsh! People die all the time," Ikkaku said carelessly. "But how often does a hollow come along? I've never fought one before. It was exhilarating!"

"You shouldn't have jumped in there," Yumichika countered. "A hollow is nothing to play around with. You could have been killed. You should have left it to the Shinigami. They're trained to deal with hollows."

Ikkaku made a sound of disgust. "Well, if you'd been there, you would have seen that those two were completely useless against that hollow."

"Are you going to tell me that you defeated it?"

Ikkaku was indignant. "I could have defeated it if they hadn't kept getting in the way—"

"Ikkaku—"

"And I'll tell you something else! Neither of them fought like a man! They didn't have the physical strength or prowess – not even the courage to do the job right!" He paused. "I'll tell you, I really hate that kido crap."

Yumichika was dull. "What makes you say that?"

"Because that's what they used to defeat the hollow!" His voice was like a roar, so great was his indignation. "Can you imagine? Shinigami resorting to kido instead of using their own abilities?"

"Kido is an ability, too," Yumichika pointed out.

"It's nothing more than cheap magic, trickery, the coward's way of fighting—"

"Stop it! Would you stop it already?" Yumichika burst out.

Ikkaku was stunned. He could not remember that last time Yumichika had snapped at him like that. "What's wrong with you?"

"Is that all you care about?" Yumichika demanded accusatively. "Don't you care about the people who were injured? The people who died?"

Ikkaku frowned. "I care as much as I can," he replied. "There's nothing I can do to change things."

"Maybe not, but you could express some sympathy, couldn't you?" Yumichika asked. "You could give a damn about something other than—than what type of weapon the Shinigami used! They defeated the damned thing, didn't they?"

Two _damns_. Even one _damn _was unlike Yumichika.

And his upset was taking the wind out of Ikkaku's jubilance.

"Why are you ruining this for me?" he barked. "This is the first good fight I've had since we left Mito, even with those Shinigami getting in the way, and you're set on ruining it! All these years, I avoided fighting for _your_ sake, and now you can't even let me enjoy this one time!"

"Enjoy it if you want," Yumichika retorted. "I don't care if you enjoy it or not! Just shut up about—about—" He couldn't say it. He couldn't admit, even to himself, that the greater part of what was upsetting him was Ikkaku's unsolicited statement about kido, in light of the knowledge that Ruri'iro Kujaku's powers were kido-based. And that led to the other part of his anger and moroseness. In his fear over being seen and of not being able to control his zanpakuto, he'd ended up not even being able to use those powers.

"About what? What's eating you, Yumichika?" Ikkaku's voice told Yumichika that he was reaching the limit of his patience.

Yumichika shook his head and kept walking, but Ikkaku took him firmly by the shoulders and faced him.

"What's wrong?"

Yumichika hesitated, and when he spoke, it was with downcast eyes. "I did something stupid back there."

"Yeah, you didn't say hidden, like I told you to."

"No . . . it wasn't that," Yumichika deferred. "I—I thought I could save someone, but I couldn't."

Ikkaku was perplexed. "What's stupid about that?"

Yumichika's level of discomfort swelled. "I thought I could use . . . I thought I had the power to heal someone, just like—just like I was healed . . . " He was straining to find the right words. "But when it came down to it, I was too—I hesitated because I was afraid, and . . . it was too late."

Ikkaku stared at him in wonderment and disbelief. "Yumichika, what would make you think you could do that?"

"Because when I was hurt so badly, someone was able to heal me, and I . . . I thought just maybe . . . "

Ikkaku narrowed his eyes. "You thought you could get him to heal someone here. Yumichika, that means—" He had to tamp down on his temper. "That means he's here with you. Still. He's been with you all these years."

"No," Yumichika frowned, shaking his head. "I just thought I might have the skill to save a life."

"Whoever—or whatever healed you in Mito—he had powers you don't have."

How wrong he was.

"I mean, think about it. You weren't just healed. You were completely restored to what you had been before. There's not a scar on you. Not a mark anywhere," Ikkaku went on. "You're a skilled healer, Yumichika. But you're not a magician. Whatever happened that healed you, it's not something you possess."

"But don't you think—don't you think it was kido that healed me?" Yumichika asked.

"Maybe," Ikkaku replied. "So what if it was?"

"Doesn't that mean that kido has some good uses?" He sounded more hopeful than he'd intended.

"Sure, it has its uses," Ikkaku replied. "But it's no way for a man to fight."

Yumichika nodded.

Ikkaku lightened his tone and slapped Yumichika on the shoulder. "You should know that. All a man needs is a sword and his own prowess. And you're getting pretty good with a sword. Maybe next time, you can join me."

"I hope there never is a next time," Yumichika replied.

"You're so boring."

"I guess."

Ikkaku paused. "Now, about this hollow that's still hanging around you . . . "

Yumichika threw his head back with a growl of frustration. "Not again."

They resumed walking.

* * *

><p>"Kimi?"<p>

Yumichika turned his head at the sound of Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice, but he said nothing.

The zanpakuto came and sat next to him. They were beside the pool in the cavern. Yumichika was waving a hand mindlessly through the shallow water.

"You're still upset," the kujaku stated, although it was an observation that did not need to be pointed out. He simply wanted to get his master talking.

Yumichika was silent for a long time. At last, he spoke to the water. "Maybe I am a coward."

The despair in his voice was alarming.

"Why would you say that? Is it because of what Madarame said about kido?" he asked.

Yumichika shrugged.

Anger bubbled up Ruri'iro Kujaku's throat. "What does he know about it anyway? He's just a barbarian who knows nothing other than brute force. He's too blinded by his lust for fighting to see that there are other ways."

"It's not Ikkaku's fault," Yumichika deferred. "It's mine. I'm the one who was afraid to try using you with other people around. I know you warned me against it, but it was still my decision to make. And my decision was that of a coward."

"Kimi—"

"I could have saved that girl—"

Ruri'iro cut him off. "You don't know that. Even I don't know that. You haven't been tried in the outside world. I don't—"

"I could have tried against the hollow," Yumichika interjected. "I could have used your powers."

"You could have," Ruri'iro Kujaku agreed in a considered voice. "And maybe you would have been successful. But would it have been worth the risk? You're still learning how to direct and control me. If you had made a mistake, you might have ended up doing more harm than good. It was best that you left it to the Shinigami."

Yumichika pulled his knees in to his chest. "I don't understand why Ikkaku is so opposed to kido."

As Ruri'iro Kujaku suspected, this was the true crux of the matter for his master.

"And I don't understand why you care so much about what he thinks," he replied. "I am _your_ power; not his."

"Kimi . . . please don't get angry," Yumichika implored. "I'm already upset enough."

"But that's just it," Ruri'iro Kujaku persisted. "You shouldn't be upset at all. Or if you are going to be upset, let it be because of that girl's death, or because you're not ready to control my power yet. Don't let it be because of Madarame's opposition to kido. "

Yumichika sighed. "It's how I feel."

"You let him make you feel that way," Ruri'iro spat, clearly growing angrier with each passing second. "I am beginning to believe that he is what is truly standing in the way of your progress."

Yumichika, his voice still bland, pointed out, "You said we should go slowly."

"Yes," Ruri'iro agreed. "But not at a crawl. Something has held you back since the very beginning, and now I know what it is. It's Madarame."

"You're wrong," Yumichika said, getting to his feet. "Ikkaku can feel however he wants to about kido. He's not forcing me to abandon it. He doesn't even know about you. No, I'm the one making all the decisions. I'm the one who doesn't have the courage to reveal you to him. Or to anyone else." He began to walk away. "I—I don't know what to do with you."

Ruri'iro Kujaku spoke in a voice Yumichika had never heard before.

"Don't walk away from me, master."

He sounded desperate, almost frightened; and it occurred to Yumichika that in some way, he was injuring his zanpakuto. It was the first time he realized that the reikon had a weakness.

And that weakness was the love he had for his master, the need to be accepted and coveted by the one who had given him being.

Recognition of this fact moved Yumichika deeply. All the years they had spent together, Ruri'iro Kujaku had remained hidden, and Yumichika had accepted that as the situation in which they existed. He'd never stopped to really think about how it was affecting Ruri'iro Kujaku, a being of pride and exhibition.

He stopped and turned to face him. The peacock had none of his usual confident bluster about him. He looked small and dejected. It was a pitiful sight, one Yumichika could not endure. He held out his hand, and Ruri'iro Kujaku came to him, showing no hesitation to go like a child into a parent's embrace.

For the first time, Yumichika felt like the master; and as such, he felt a tenderness towards the display of vulnerability before him.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he said.

Ruri'iro Kujaku waited a long time before speaking. "If you reject me, what do I become?" he answered his own question. "I would be trapped in this existence, in this world of only one, alone. I would become nothing."

The fear in his words shook Yumichika. "That will never happen. I give you my word; that will never happen." He held Ruri'iro at arm's length and looked into the swirling eyes with conviction. "I know I'm not learning as fast as you'd like me to, but that's my own fault. It's because I'm still afraid of all your power, not because I'm rejecting you." A pause. "How could I reject you? You're part of me. You're the better part of me."

"That's true," Ruri'iro Kujaku agreed.

"Hey!" Yumichika scoffed in a light-hearted manner, grateful for the reprieve from the melancholy that had followed him since the hollow attack.

Ruri'iro Kujaku gave him a squeeze. "I only meant that I'm a part of you."

Yumichika nodded. Things were as they should be once again. True to form, Ruri'iro Kujaku had rebounded immediately from his moment of uncertainty.

Now, it was up to Yumichika to change the subject and prevent return to unpleasant subjects. "I only wish there was a way I could try out your powers against someone other than you."

"That will be very hard to do in this village," Ruri'iro replied. "There are no miscreants here. That incident with the hollow today is the only trouble we've had since we've been here."

"And we can't exactly go looking for trouble," Yumichika said, adding with a smile, "That would be just like what Ikkaku used to do."

"Not at all," Ruri'iro countered. "Madarame was looking for anyone to fight in order to satisfy his desire. You'd be looking only for trouble-makers, solely for the purpose of training."

"But how am I going to leave the village? If I go anywhere, Ikkaku will want to come with me, and—"

"I can show you a way." Ruri'iro's voice was secretive.

Yumichika narrowed his eyes.

"It is the same way I am able to leave the dimensions of this world and enter into the outside world," Ruri'iro began. "It's a skill the Shinigami use."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16 The Newcomer

_"Another man is what you'll see,  
><em>_Who looks like you and looks like me.  
><em>_And yet somehow, he will not feel the same.  
><em>_His life caught up in misery,  
><em>_He doesn't think like you and me,  
><em>_Cause he can't see what you and I can see."_

_Melancholy Man  
><em>Mike Pinder

* * *

><p>Today marked the fourteenth year Ikkaku had been working in the mill.<p>

It was hard to believe.

There were times when he wondered how he had ever ended up living such a conventional, conformist life. Following the rules was, after all, no way for a man to live. A man should make his own rules and then break them as often as possible. Or better yet, no rules. No expectations. No obligations or responsibilities.

He had certainly lived just such a life upon arriving in Soul Society.

But Yumichika had changed all that. Or it might be more accurate to say that Ikkaku's affection for Yumichika had ushered in new ways of thinking and behaving.

Ikkaku had never forgotten the sight of Yumichika lying at the bottom of the steps outside his machiya that terrible day twenty years ago. That one moment had turned Ikkaku's entire world upside-down. His self-centered infatuation with pain, anger and violence had given way to something he hadn't even known he'd possessed: the ability to truly care about another human soul and the desire to protect that soul at all costs.

He had done that now for twenty years, and he had to concede that the returns were worth what he had given up.

Dare he admit it, but he was actually content with his life – or as content as he had ever been. The absence of conflict had become tolerable. Yumichika provided enough contrived contention to keep him from getting too bored. And for the first time, he was discovering what it meant to be accepted and wanted, faults and all.

Such were the thoughts that flittered pleasantly through his mind as he filled the sacks with ground meal on that bright, crisp April morning that marked his anniversary as a working man.

Yenset, thoughtful as a man could be, had already celebrated the date by giving Ikkaku several homemade breads his wife had made, along with one sack each of corn meal and rice flour.

Ikkaku imagined the pleasure on Yumichika's face when he brought home the extra goods.

Then he heard something that froze him in place.

It was a man's voice, and he knew it intrinsically. Even after all this time, he knew it. It was etched forever in his memory.

Forcing himself against will and instinct, he moved carefully to peer around the wall.

His suspicions were confirmed.

But how could it be? All the years in Soul Society had brought no sight of this man. Perhaps he was just passing through. But as Ikkaku listened to the conversation, it became clear that the man was not a mere transient. He was coming to stay. He spoke of living in the downstream valley.

Then the unthinkable happened. As Yenset and the man finished conducting their business, the miller said, "I didn't realize Madarame was such a common name. I've got a man named Madarame working here." He turned and raised his voice. "Madarame-san!"

Ikkaku could have pretended not to hear him, but what difference did it make now? The meeting was inevitable. He came from around the wall, his face impassive; yet his stance made it clear that he was not going to allow himself to be rattled by the man's appearance.

The visitor, on the other hand, did not have the benefit of foreknowledge. He visibly paled when Ikkaku stepped into view.

"Ikkaku . . . "

Ikkaku gave no response.

The awkwardness was stifling enough that Yenset recognized he should excuse himself.

"I'll get the paperwork ready for your order," he said as casually as possible under the circumstances. With that, he went into his office.

Once he was gone, the man spoke. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"That's obvious," Ikkaku replied in a cold voice.

"Can we step outside?"

Ikkaku followed him out into the cooler air.

"If I had known you were here, I wouldn't have settled in the valley," the man began. "I would have avoided this village altogether."

Ikkaku was not moved. "It's not too late for you to change your mind. You can leave."

"No, no." The man shook his head. "I like it here, and . . . I've spent enough time looking for a good place to settle."

"So, you really wouldn't have avoided this place even if you'd known I was here," Ikkaku said flatly. "As long as you're happy, that's all that matters, right?"

The man put a hand on Ikkaku's shoulder. "Son, we're not in the world of the living anymore. All of that is behind us."

Ikkaku looked with hatred at the hand on his shoulder. He reached up and removed it. "I'm not your son. Being here in Soul Society doesn't suddenly make me your son."

"But I _am_ your father," the man replied, smiling a sigh. "You know, you haven't changed a bit."

"How would you know if I've changed?" Ikkaku sneered. "You never knew me in the world of the living."

"Oh, I knew you," his father replied. "I knew you were a bitter, angry boy who only thought of himself. And I see you're still the same."

To his credit, Ikkaku did not allow his anger to turn into hostility. All the years of being with Yumichika had had some positive effect, after all.

"You haven't changed either," he said evenly. "But the good news is neither of us has to see the other at all if we don't want to." He paused. "And I don't want to."

With that, he turned and walked back towards the millhouse.

"Ikkaku, wait."

Ikkaku stopped without looking back.

"If we're both living in the area, we're going to see each other," his father stated bluntly. "Is this how we want to act towards each other in public?"

Ikkaku clenched his teeth against the sneer that was forming on his face. "You forget – you're the one who cares about public appearances. I don't."

He went inside.

* * *

><p>"Madarame is coming."<p>

Yumichika looked up from the wrapped bundle he was carefully adorning with strips of yellow and blue died hemp weave. For he also knew the significance of the day – a day he had thought impossible. And although it may have been misplaced, the idea that Ikkaku had managed to stay with a job for so many years was a source of pride to Yumichika, and he had concocted his own small celebration in honor of the event.

"Yes, he is," he confirmed, looking at the reikon where he sat on the window sill. Over the years, Ruri'iro Kujaku had developed the ability to detect Ikkaku's presence just as well as Yumichika could, and this never ceased to amaze the latter.

"But . . . his riatsu . . . something's wrong," Ruri'iro Kujaku stated.

"Yes, I sense it, too," Yumichika agreed. "You'd better vanish."

Ruri'iro sighed. "Why not let me stay this time? Maybe seeing me will take the edge off whatever's made him angry."

Yumichika simpered. "Somehow, I doubt that."

"There's no harm in trying, is there?"

Yumichika drew in a long, steadying breath.

It was becoming a common argument. Ruri'iro Kujaku had long ago grown weary of being hidden. Yumichika could not fault him. It was understandable. Ruri'iro was extraordinarily confident in his beauty, and he did not like the fact that that beauty was being withheld from view. Nor did he like the fact that, as Yumichika had learned better and better how to manage certain aspects of their shared power, his access to the outside world had lessened. He could no longer look out through his master's eyes whenever he pleased, but only when Yumichika permitted it. He could no longer hear the sounds of birds or running water at his whim, but again, only when allowed to do so. He could still sense his master's emotions, but his thoughts were off-limits. To be certain, he could have overpowered any and all of the barriers his master had put in place; but that was not how he wanted their relationship or their training to progress. It was crucial that Yumichika trust him.

And in truth, none of the restrictions came as a surprise to Ruri'iro Kujaku. He knew they were all part of the process of his master learning how to subdue him. Still, he had not fully realized just how painful such sundering could be. It seemed as if each time Yumichika moved ahead, Ruri'iro lost another part of his master, another wall went up between them. And he hated feeling separated from Yumichika.

Still, they were inexorably bound together by ties that could not be broken even in death. It just appeared, to Ruri'iro Kujaku, that in training his master, he had contributed to Yumichika's ability to put distance between them.

"Kimi," Yumichika began, his voice indulgent and kind. "I know you're anxious. I am, too. I would like it more than anything to be able to show you to Ikkaku, but—"

"Maybe if you took him with us one time so he could see you fighting and using me," Ruri'iro suggested helpfully.

Over the past three years, the zanpakuto had taught Yumichika an amazing way of moving, a mastery of speed that had seemed impossible, almost like a twisting of space. Using the technique had opened up opportunities for Yumichika to actually train using his zanpakuto against various miscreants in the surrounding lands without Ikkaku ever knowing he was gone; however he had never used his release – only the sword form of Ruri'iro Kujaku, for which the peacock chided him relentlessly. Yumichika's reluctance in using the vines was a source of great vexation for the kujaku, who had no problem cutting his master down to size over the matter.

He carried out such dressing downs often and well. Ruri'iro's vanity was such that he felt he deserved only the best efforts from his master, and when such effort was not forthcoming, that same vanity showed forth in fits of pique.

And when this happened, Yumichika would deflate him with the moniker he had come to detest.

_Fuji _Kujaku was the perfect tease, the ideal taunt.

And because Yumichika loved Ruri'iro Kujaku, he knew he could employ the term as a light-hearted barb and incur only the slightest of Ruri'iro's wrath: the sulk. What he had stumbled upon quite unexpectedly was that, by using the name, he could restrict his zanpakuto to a partial release, a split blade in the shape of the four scythes that always preceded a full release. Ruri'iro's indignation and pride prevented him from responding with the fullness of his ability at the invocation of such a hideous name. As such, the name had become a form of restraint, for no amount of common sense could overcome Ruri'iro Kujaku's pretentiousness and force him to release unless properly addressed.

"Kimi, it's just not the time," Yumichika said. He had never used either release command in front of Ikkaku, but only the weapon in its sword form.

"You've been saying that since the day you manifested me," Ruri'iro groused. "It's never time. If you're waiting for Madarame to change his mind about kido, then I am sure there will _never _be a time. You will never have the courage to show me to him."

"You know it's not just the kido," Yumichika corrected. "It's still the whole idea of me having a zanpakuto. That would be a huge blow to him—"

Ruri'iro Kujaku groaned. "So, his ego is worth more to you than my freedom?"

It was a strange question, for Yumichika had never thought of Ruri'iro Kujaku in terms of freedom or captivity. And although Yumichika had learned how to control certain aspects of his zanpakuto, he still considered Ruri'iro to be so powerful that he had limitless freedom. In fact, Yumichika was quite sure that, if Ruri'iro had so desired, he could surmount any and all of the limitations Yumichika had set upon him.

"There you go again," Yumichika chastised, but his voice was filled with affection, "I've never heard such drama."

"It's true, isn't it?"

Yumichika shook his head with a resigned smile. "You will never get over your jealousy, will you?"

Ruri'iro stood up and with a perfectly honed sense of self-righteousness, replied, "Not until you get over your infatuation." With that, he vanished and the colors of the outside world were restored.

Yumichika finished wrapping and set the bundle aside. He made the final touches to the table and checked on the contents of the pot for the meal he was preparing. Then he sat down to wait.

And wait.

Ikkaku did not enter the cottage. His spiritual pressure was still pounding away at Yumichika's senses, so he was close by; but he was not coming inside.

Yumichika focused his concentration. Ikkaku's riatsu was swirling with anger – anger at a level Yumichika had not sensed from him in many years. And when Ikkaku was that angry, only one thing could satisfy him.

Yumichika reached over and picked up Ruri'iro Kujaku. "Let's go."

He found Ikkaku at the lower tree line of the meadow, fighting the thin air with a ferociousness that normally would have been reserved for an actual opponent.

Yumichika stood off, unnoticed, several yards. At length, during a pause in Ikkaku's battle, he took the moment to announce his arrival.

"Would you prefer an actual adversary?"

Ikkaku startled at the sound of his voice, and this told Yumichika that something must truly be weighing on his mind; for while Yumichika had, over the years and with Ruri'iro Kujaku's patient assistance, come to the point where he could now sense his own riatsu and therefore control its projection, albeit not so easily and not always successfully, he had always made sure he was detectable on some level to Ikkaku. The fact that Ikkaku had not even known he was there was reason for concern.

With that in mind, it might not have been the best decision, offering to fight Ikkaku; but it was the sort of thing Yumichika knew could help Ikkaku work out whatever was bothering him.

"Not this time," Ikkaku deferred, turning away as if he were afraid that, by facing Yumichika, he might give too much away.

But Yumichika did not give up so easily. He drew Ruri'iro Kujaku and took up a fighting stance. "What's different about this time? It's just another spar, right?"

Ikkaku frowned. "Leave me alone, Yumichika."

"Come on, Ikkaku," Yumichika pressed. "A little one-on-one will do you some good."

"Not now." Ikkaku's voice contained a warning.

But Yumichika did not heed it. "I'm offering to fight you," he said. "Are you going to turn that down?"

If Yumichika were not going to give up, Ikkaku had no intention of arguing with him. The anger was already smoldering inside him. He needed little inducement to engage with an opponent who could fight back. Without another word, he turned and lunged at him.

From the first exchange, Yumichika was shocked. Ikkaku, in their matches, had always been tough but, knowing that Yumichika could never match him, he had made sure to hold back on his level of brutality. This time, he came at Yumichika with something very close to the fullness of his strength and rage. He dropped blow after blow, each one more vicious than the one before. His voice rose in cries of frenzied bloodlust.

Yumichika hardly knew how to react. Ikkaku had never been this violent, and for the first time, Yumichika was frightened.

"I-Ikkaku—st-stop!" he managed between blocks that were becoming less and less effective.

But it was as if Ikkaku had not even heard him. He was relentless, driving Yumichika back further and further, until they came to the tree line on the opposite side of the glade. Yumichika leapt back and ducked behind a tree just as Ikkaku's katana swung into it and lodged there for a moment before he yanked it free and resumed his attack.

Now retreating through the underbrush, Yumichika moved clumsily backwards step by step as he lost ground. Stumbling over a tangle of roots, he lost his footing for a brief moment, forcing him to turn and regain his balance; and when he faced Ikkaku once more, it was just in time to see his katana come slicing down from overhead. Yumichika threw up his sword to block, one hand on the hilt, the other on the flat side of the blade. But so great was the force of the blow that his own blade slid through the hand that supported it, slicing deeply, catching his arm and forging a gouge from wrist to elbow. Keeping his wits about him, he managed to back out of lethal range of Ikkaku's downward cut, but the tip caught him just above the right eye and cut straight down to his chin.

The impact threw him to the ground, where he sat stunned. The sword fell from his hand.

Ikkaku stood over him. "You giving up already?" he sneered.

"I—I can't fight anymore," Yumichika wheezed.

"What do you mean, you can't—" Ikkaku stopped suddenly, as Yumichika raised his head, his hair falling back and revealing the injury. The fire inside him was immediately extinguished. The sight of Yumichika hurt overrode all other emotions.

"Yumichika! I—damn!" He dropped to one knee, and that was when he saw the blood flowing down Yumichika's arm. A string of epithets interspersed with apologies poured from his lips as he tore strips of cloth from the hem of Yumichika's garment and began binding the wounds.

Yumichika said nothing.

"Come on, let's get you back to the cottage," Ikkaku said. "Can you walk?"

Yumichika nodded. He reached over with his good arm and retrieved his sword, sliding it back into its sheath. He accepted Ikkaku's assistance in getting to his feet.

Ikkaku helped him across the meadow and to the cottage. Once inside, he began tending to Yumichika's wounds. During all their years together, he had absorbed some of the healing skills he had observed Yumichika using – but mostly he relied on the clotting balm.

"I'm sorry, Yumichika. I didn't realize I was being so rough," he apologized.

"It's what I get for insisting you fight with me," Yumichika replied wryly. "But I was surprised at how brutal you were. You usually take it pretty easy on me."

"I don't know what got into me," Ikkaku lamented, although this was a lie. He knew exactly what had gotten into him. He just could not believe he had taken it out on Yumichika. He felt as if the past fourteen years of peace had gone up in smoke. He had finally managed to leave the past behind, and then it came to meet him in the present, to taunt him and make him forget that he had ever known happiness.

"Did something happen in the village today?" Yumichika ventured. "I could feel something was wrong in your riatsu when you came home. I thought, if you had a chance to fight a bit, it might help you vent your anger. I guess that was stupid of me."

"No, it wasn't stupid, Yumichika. Normally, you'd be right. Just today . . . I lost control," Ikkaku replied. "Someone made me angry, and it spilled over into our match."

"Who was it? What happened?"

Ikkaku shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it, Yumichika. It's better if I just let it go."

Yumichika accepted this, and Ikkaku imagined he would not have to tell him. The truth would come out eventually; but until it did, Ikkaku had no intention of mentioning his father's appearance. He needed the time to figure out how he was going to deal with it when it came to light.

He changed the subject. "What smells so good?"

"I made schwenkbraten and rot kohl for you – to celebrate fourteen years working at Yenset's mill," Yumichika replied. "I'm afraid you'll have to serve yourself."

"Yumichika . . . " Ikkaku felt even worse than he had before.

"And over there by the table is a gift I made for you."

Now, Ikkaku felt lower than the roots of the trees. He walked over and picked up the wrapped parcel. Opening it, he found himself looking at a leather work apron of master quality. The belt was adorned with figures of dragons, spouting flames of dyed red, ridges of black rising along their spines, and each scale painstakingly etched. The bib was even more impressive with a rendering of the mill and its stream against the backdrop of the mountains.

Ikkaku was at a loss for words. It was the most exquisite gift he had ever received, and it was clear that Yumichika had put a great deal of thought and effort into it.

"Do you like it?" Yumichika asked.

Ikkaku swallowed. "It's magnificent."

"So, you can wear it when you go to the mill tomorrow," Yumichika suggested.

"I'm not going to the mill tomorrow," Ikkaku replied. "I'm going to stay here and look after you."

Yumichika smiled, which in itself, looked painful enough given the gash down his face.

"You don't have to do that. You know I'll heal quickly."

"I'm staying here tomorrow," Ikkaku said in a voice that told Yumichika the decision was made, and arguing would do no good. "I'll go down just long enough to tell Yenset."

"If you think it's necessary," Yumichika conceded. "But we might just wake up tomorrow to find that I'm already healed."

"Maybe," Ikkaku allowed. "I guess we'll have to wait til tomorrow to find out."

* * *

><p>Ruri'iro Kujaku was livid.<p>

"That big, clumsy oaf! How could he do this to you?"

"It was an accident," Yumichika replied calmly.

"It wasn't an accident," the zanpakuto huffed. "He was so angry that he practically fell into a trance. You're lucky he snapped out of it before he killed you."

"Kimi, don't court disaster," Yumichika chastised gently.

Ruri'iro Kujaku drew in several deep breaths in an attempt to sooth his fiery temper. Finally, he put out his hand and offered, "I can heal you."

But Yumichika drew back. "Only a little," he instructed. "I don't want to raise Ikkaku's suspicions again. He hasn't mentioned the idea of a hollow in ages, and I don't want to do anything to make him dredge it up again."

"But you can't let these wounds heal on their own," Ruri'iro Kujaku persisted. "They'll leave scars, and it will take weeks."

"You can use just enough of your power to ensure they heal without a trace," Yumichika replied. "But you can't rush the healing."

Now, the reikon was not only livid, he was disgusted. "Now you're willing to compromise your beauty rather than simply tell him the truth about me. This is becoming absurd."

"It isn't a compromise," Yumichika corrected. "It's a necessary action to keep him from turning into a hawk again. You don't want him hovering over me every second like he used to, do you?"

"Of course not," Ruri'iro snapped. "But you always find a new excuse why you can't show me to him, but that's all they are: excuses. The truth is that you're embarrassed because my power is kido. You're ashamed of me. And you're afraid Madarame will spurn you if he finds out about me."

"I'm not ashamed of you," Yumichika said evenly despite the frustration he felt inside. "But yes, I am still worried about what Ikkaku would do if he found about you."

"Clearly."

Yumichika put out his hand and caressed Ruri'iro Kujaku's cheek. "Kimi, isn't it enough that I spend time here with you? You know how I feel about you."

As always, his master's touch threatened to undo him. "I know how you feel," he admitted. "I only fear that Madarame means more to you than I do."

"You're both important to me," Yumichika replied.

"But do you love him more than you love me?" Ruri'iro pressed.

Yumichika faltered, and his hand dropped. "I—I—my feelings for you are totally different from the way I feel about Ikkaku."

"In what way?"

"I—I don't know how to explain it," Yumichika replied. "It's just—different."

Ruri'iro Kujaku frowned, and his disappointment showed in the colors swirling around him.

"Kimi," Yumichika said quietly, gazing intently into the multi-colored eyes. "I could never feel the same way about him that I do about you."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I've never wanted to touch him like I touch you. I've never wanted him to be close to me like you are," Yumichika said earnestly. "I've never looked at him and thought I was looking at the most beautiful being ever created." He paused. "I've never felt the desire for him like I feel for you."

He could sense that his words had hit home with Ruri'iro Kujaku. That reassurance was what the zanpakuto had needed to hear, and now he was content.

Still, it came as a puzzle to Yumichika why he should ever have to reassure his zanpakuto of anything. Ruri'iro Kujaku was confident to the point of bursting, yet he sometimes acted like a neglected child, needing words of praise and comfort. It was odd, for he often called Yumichika a child, but more and more Yumichika felt Ruri'iro was as much as a child as he was.

It mattered little to him, though; for standing now, facing Ruri'iro Kujaku and seeing the peace that that settled across his features, he decided it had been worth the words of kindness he had uttered. And he felt that it was probably in his own best interests to keep the kujaku happy.

* * *

><p><em>Stupid bird.<em>

Its incessant, mournful call stood between Ikkaku and much needed sleep like a sentry guarding a storehouse. Every time Ikkaku was on the verge of falling off, the bird would start up again.

Ikkaku grimaced in the dark. He had been hearing such a cry every year since coming to Venla, but it had never kept him awake before. Yumichika had said it was a mourning dove, and Ikkaku found it aptly named. But right now, it was an irritating dove, an aggravating dove. At last, he gave up on even trying to sleep.

He sat up and looked across the frame of moonlight slanting down through the window to where Yumichika slept against the opposite wall.

His bandaged arm lay visible atop his chest, and the deepest parts of the cut on his face were covered with strips of white gauze that showed blue in the darkness.

This, then, was the true reason behind Ikkaku's inability to sleep; the bird outside was nothing but an excuse.

While Yumichika appeared to be sleeping peacefully, Ikkaku could not blot out the expression of shock and pain on his face in the aftermath of their _spar_.

And he could not forget his own horror when he'd realized what he'd done. He'd completely lost control. He may not have used his full strength, but he'd come close and definitely delivered an attack that Yumichika could not hope to counter.

It was a miracle Yumichika had not been more seriously injured.

But what about next time?

_You can't let there be a next time. You can't let that bastard get to you like this again. Too much time has passed to let all that anger return. _

He got up and went outside. A full moon hung large and yellow just above the treeline. A soft breeze rustled the treetops. The air was cold but it felt good against Ikkaku's face. He strolled through the ankle-high grass.

Of all the places in Soul Society, why—_why_ had his father ended up here? Was some kind of cosmic justice in place for all the hatred Ikkaku had indulged both in his life and in Soul Society? Was this the fair return on his wicked obsession with violence? He might have argued that he had changed, that he was no longer that same vitriolic, confrontation-loving provocateur. But events today had put the lie to that. He was still vicious. He had not yet mastered his own will, and Yumichika had been the unwitting, undeserving victim of his failure.

And all because of one man.

How was he to keep the truth hidden? How was he to avoid his father and the unpleasantness that must necessarily ensue? Most importantly, how was he to keep his father from learning about Yumichika? He knew his father could be charming and engaging when it was in his interest. And what greater interest could he have than in finding the most devastating way to injure Ikkaku? Through Yumichika. Yumichika had become Ikkaku's greatest weakness.

For all that he had sworn to protect Yumichika, he had never imagined he would have to protect him from this threat. He had never imagined he would need to protect himself from the injury his father could still inflict.

But how was he to manage it? If his father was living in the valley, it was only a matter of time before he and Yumichika encountered one another. And then what? If his father had even the slightest inkling of what Yumichika meant to Ikkaku, he would work tirelessly to destroy their relationship.

Even without taking Yumichika into account, the idea of seeing his father even once more was almost more than Ikkaku could bear. If Ikkaku had been on his own, he simply would have picked up and left Venla. But he could never ask Yumichika to leave. Such an uprooting would be devastating.

Ikkaku was trapped in a situation he could not walk away from. For a moment, he felt a strange stab of undirected resentment. He had lost the freedom to act as he wished, and now he found himself facing a set of circumstances in which he could not win. His hands were tied.

He crossed the meadow and picked up one of the woodland paths on the far side. It didn't matter which one. He just needed to walk and clear his head. He did not want to make a mistake.

But what course of action would not be a mistake?

No matter what, someone would be hurt.

Who and how badly . . .

He feared he already knew the answer.

He would not do it. He would not let Yumichika become a pawn or a victim in this fight.

* * *

><p>"What the hell are you doing?" Ikkaku demanded, rolling off his sleeping mat and to his feet in one motion.<p>

"I'm fixing breakfast—"

Yumichika had barely gotten the words out before Ikkaku took the skillet from his hand and set it down on the table. "No, you're not. You're supposed to be resting. I'll take care of breakfast. Go lie down."

"Ikkaku—"

"Lie down." Ikkaku turned a narrow eye on him. "Don't even think of arguing with me. I feel guilty enough."

Yumichika managed a half-faced grin. Ikkaku noticed that the injury to his face had already healed considerably overnight. But that did nothing to lessen the sting of memory.

"You don't need to feel guilty," Yumichika replied. "I wish you wouldn't worry about it. I feel fine."

"Well, you don't look fine," Ikkaku snapped back. "Now, just do as I say and lie down."

Yumichika did not lie but instead sat down at the table. "Do you know what you're doing?"

"Of course! I've made breakfast before!" Ikkaku roared back in his over-the-top way.

"Okay, okay." Yumichika waited a few seconds as Ikkaku started rummaging around in the wooden enclosure that served as a pantry behind the hearth. "Where did you go last night?"

Ikkaku peered out from around the door frame. "How did you know?"

"I heard you and woke up."

"Oh, well . . . I couldn't sleep." He disappeared back into the pantry, emerging a few seconds later, his arms laden with enough food to feed an army. "I just decided to go for a walk to see if it would help."

"You were gone a long time," Yumichika noted.

"If you think I went off to fight, you're wrong," Ikkaku said, dumping all the food in the cooking area. "I just couldn't sleep. That's all."

"I believe you." Yumichika looked at the food. "Who's supposed to eat all that?"

Ikkaku growled a non-answer and set about preparing something that only he knew what it would be.

Yumichika let him work in silence. He watched him combine ingredients not normally combined, but he was determined not to say anything or offer any correction. Ikkaku was trying to be good to him, and he would accept it graciously.

When, at last, the plate was set before him, he smiled genially. "This looks good."

"It'll be healthy enough, and that's what matter," Ikkaku replied, sitting opposite him.

"What is this? Bean curd?"

"And butter cream. You know, the jar is about empty. We'll have to get some more on our next run," Ikkaku stated, spreading the mixture on a piece of bread and stuffing it in his mouth.

Yumichika had always been a dainty eater, and this morning he had good reason to be – not just because of his injuries, but because of the cuisine. Still, he tried everything and cleaned off most of the plate, much to Ikkaku's satisfaction.

As they ate, Yumichika asked, "Where did the breads come from?"

"Yenset's wife made them," Ikkaku replied. "And Yenset gave me the bags of meal. They were thank-you gifts."

"They're very generous people, aren't they?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Mm-hm," Ikkaku grunted, taking a fourth helping of milk rice. "I think I earned it."

"So, are we heading into the village today?" Yumichika asked. "There are some things other than the cream that we need to pick up."

"I don't think you should be going anywhere today," Ikkaku replied. "You need to just stay here and take it easy. Besides, if the villagers see you looking like that, what will they think?"

"Since when do you care what anyone thinks?" Yumichika poked with a grin.

"Uh, that's true," Ikkaku conceded. "But all the same, I don't want them thinking I cut you up."

"But you did—"

"By accident!"

"So, can't we just tell them that? They'd have no reason to doubt it," Yumichika said. "It's not as if you've beaten me up before."

Ikkaku grimaced at the very mention of the words, but he would not be dissuaded. "Yumichika, you're staying here today. I told you I would go down long enough to tell Yenset I won't be in. I'll pick up whatever you need while I'm down there."

"That's fine," Yumichika gave in. "I guess I really should stay here and try to clean up the place—"

"The place is immaculate. You should stay here and try to rest," Ikkaku interrupted.

Yumichika held up his good arm in surrender. "Okay, okay. I'll stay here in bed all day."

"Good!"

Ikkaku got up and headed for the door.

"Aren't you going to clean those dishes before you go?" Yumichika asked innocently. "Because, you know if you don't, I'll feel the need to do it myself once you leave."

Ikkaku turned a dry glare on him. "You are such a . . . fine, fine."

* * *

><p>"Madarame-san, you're down early today."<p>

"It's because I have a favor to ask, Yenset-san," Ikkaku replied.

The miller paused in what he was doing – inspecting the grinding wheel for any cracks – and turned to face Ikkaku directly. "What is it?"

"Yumichika is unwell, so I'd like to take stay with him for the next couple days," Ikkaku replied.

"I hope it's nothing serious," Yenset said with concern. "I could send up my wife. You know she's very handy that way."

"Thank you very much, but I don't think that will be necessary. He'll be okay in a few days. He took a tumble and got pretty banged up; but he's a fast healer." How easily truth and falsehood flowed together from his mouth.

Yenset nodded. "Take as many days as you need, and if you change your mind, let me know and I'll send Suimi up."

"I will," Ikkaku replied with a nod, then he turned to go.

Yenset's voice stopped him. "Before you go, I wanted to ask you . . . that man yesterday . . . he's your father, isn't he?"

Ikkaku felt a chill shudder down his spine. After several seconds, he answered, "Yes." A pause. "But I don't want anyone to know."

"I won't ask why," Yenset said. "But you may not be able to keep it a secret if he becomes a regular here in the village."

"I know, but please I've got to try and keep it private for as long as I can."

Yenset nodded. "Go take care of Yumichika-san. I won't tell anyone about your father."

"Thank you," Ikkaku said, and he left to return to the cottage.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17 The Wicked Game

_"In the silence just before the dawn,  
><em>_the shadows lose their form.  
><em>_In the calm that comes before the storm,  
><em>_A troubled and a restless heart is born."_

_River of Endless Love  
><em>Justin Hayward and John Lodge

* * *

><p>"Ikkaku, what are you worried about? You've been trying to keep me up here ever since the accident. It's been two weeks."<p>

Ikkaku had noticed how Yumichika always referred to the violent events of that evening as an "accident". It was a kindness Ikkaku was certain he did not deserve. Still, that kindness aside, he was not going to allow himself to be persuaded by Yumichika's soft soap.

"You're imagining things," he replied. "I just thought it would be best if you stayed here and rested."

"I appreciate that," Yumichika replied, setting breakfast on the table. "But you know I haven't needed _rest_ since a couple days after it happened. You know I've been busy most of these last two weeks."

"That was your choice—"

"That's not my point," Yumichika replied. "My point is that I'm fine, and I am going down into the village today."

"Yumichika—"

"Look, the scars are almost gone. If anyone asks, I'll just say I fell or something like that," Yumichika cut him off. "You can argue with me all you want, but it won't do any good."

He was speaking the truth.

It wouldn't do any good. Ikkaku could see that look in Yumichika's eye: he was bound and determined to have his way.

"If that's what you want," he conceded grudgingly. "Fine. Let's go."

It was mid-morning by the time they arrived at the market, which was already crowded with people.

Yumichika's appearance after a two week absence caused quite a stir as villagers swarmed to find out where he had been and what had kept him away. Yumichika basked in the attention, and to his credit, he managed their inquiries with humble aplomb.

Ikkaku was amazed at just how adept Yumichika was at fabrication, but perhaps he should not have been. After all, Yumichika had concealed his "business" activities from him for well over a year. He was a skilled liar – a talent of dubious worth. But as he recalled to his audience events that had never happened – a slip on the cascade rocks and the subsequent tumble from one ledge of falls to the next – he almost had even Ikkaku convinced of the tale.

The outpouring of sympathy was almost nauseating by Ikkaku's standards, but that was the least of his concerns.

His eyes swept over the market place, searching.

On both of the past Saturdays, he had seen his father at the market, so there was every reason to think he would see him again this day.

And that was what he was dreading.

Looking back at Yumichika, the center of a large knot of people, he feared that such a gathering would attract his father's attention. He could not let that happen.

He reached through the crowd, snagged Yumichika by the sleeve, and said, "Let's go. We've got a lot to do."

Yumichika allowed himself to be drawn away, but he was surprised at Ikkaku's gruff manner. Ever since coming to Venla, Ikkaku had been devoted to presenting only his best manners in front of the villagers. He had done everything to fit in and make no waves. He may have been doing it only for Yumichika's benefit, but Yumichika liked to believe that Ikkaku had discovered that being pleasant reaped much greater benefits than being surly.

"Well, that was rude," Yumichika remarked, as they made their way across the green.

"What? Pulling you away from your adoring admirers?" Ikkaku snorted. "You are such an attention glut."

Yumichika chuckled. "You've known that for how long?"

"Since the day I met you."

"And yet, you're still here."

Ikkaku cast a sardonic grin in his direction. "Because you're useful."

"No, it's because you adore and admire me, too."

Ikkaku could only roll his eyes at that one.

They came to the textile shop, and here Ikkaku prepared to be bored for at least an hour while Yumichika looked at fabric and thread and all sorts of things that did not interest Ikkaku in the least. But at least, he figured, they'd be safe here. There was little to no chance that his father would come into a shop like this.

Until he did.

Yumichika was elbow-deep in fabric and ear-deep in conversation with the shop owner when he entered.

Ikkaku saw him immediately and all his misgivings about this trip to market came crashing back down upon him. A quick glance at Yumichika showed him too engrossed in his business to have even noticed the arrival of a new customer.

Ikkaku confronted his father just inside the doorway.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered fiercely.

"Ikkaku, it's good to see you again."

His failure to answer the question told Ikkaku that the only reason his father had entered the store was because he had seen him go in – with Yumichika. He had followed Ikkaku with the sole purpose of causing trouble.

"Get out of here," Ikkaku replied, blocking the view into the store with his body.

"Now, is that any way to behave towards your father?" came the cool response. "And you're costing this good merchant a customer."

"You didn't come here to buy anything," Ikkaku hissed. "I know why you're here. Now leave!"

At that moment, Yumichika's voice summoned him. "Ikkaku?"

He turned to see Yumichika regarding him with a perplexed expression, his hands full with two different designs of cloth. "Which one do you want for your new hanten?"

Ikkaku froze. He could still manage to pass Yumichika off as merely an acquaintance if he kept his wits about him.

"I trust your judgment," he said curtly. "You're the expert." With any luck, his father would see Yumichika as nothing more than Ikkaku's tailor.

And he had luck. But not the kind he had hoped for.

His father stepped around him and approached Yumichika. "Well now, I think this design would be very fitting for you, Ikkaku." He ran his hand across the surface of one of the bolts in Yumichika's arms. "It's bold and stark." His turned his eyes to meet Yumichika's. "What do you think?"

Yumichika hesitated for a moment. The eyes staring down at him held him riveted, but he could not say why. They were nothing special or beautiful. But something about them sparked a memory – or at least, he thought it was a memory, only he could not recall precisely which one.

At last, he broke off and looked down at the fabric. "It _is_ bold. I know Ikkaku usually likes things that are a little less flamboyant."

"Oh?" He turned and faced Ikkaku. "Is that true, son? I would have thought the more flamboyant the better. That's the way it was when you were growing up."

Ikkaku could not speak. He felt the rage rising up in him like molten lava in a volcano, but he also felt fear. Looking at the expression on Yumichika's face, he was close to panic. This was precisely what he'd wanted to avoid.

Yumichika turned his stunned, wide-eyed gaze towards him. "Ikkaku . . . is this your father?"

It was his father who answered. "That's exactly so." He made a shallow bow. "Totui Madarame."

Yumichika stared at him, unable to find words. Now, he knew why the man's eyes had drawn him in. They were Ikkaku's eyes.

Totui, seeing the shock scrawled across the face looking back at him, prompted, "And you are?"

Yumichika snapped himself out of his stupor. "Yumichika Ayasegawa."

"You're a friend of Ikkaku's?"

"He's my tailor," Ikkaku interjected before Yumichika could answer.

Yumichika shot him a bewildered look.

"Come now, son, you don't need to act so aloof," his father chided with a smile. "I know that he's your friend and that he lives with you."

"Then why did you ask?" Ikkaku ground out.

Totui was still pleasant. "Out of politeness, to start some conversation. Besides, I only knew that someone named Yumichika lived with you. I didn't know this was him until I heard the name. Although I could have guessed." He looked appreciatively at Yumichika. "The villagers told me you were beautiful. The word hardly does you justice. You're stunning."

Yumichika, so used to being complimented on his looks, actually blushed. "Thank you," he said, lowering his eyes in what appeared to be a demur display of modesty.

Ikkaku clenched his fists. He sauntered forward, relieved Yumichika of the bolts in his arms, and handed them to the shopkeeper, who had stood looking on in silence.

"Let's get out of here," he said, taking Yumichika by the arm.

But Yumichika resisted. "Wait a minute, Ikkaku." A light gleamed in his eye. Its appearance disturbed Ikkaku, for he knew what it meant.

"We—we don't have to go," he insisted. "This is your father! How often—how often do family members find each other in Soul Society? This is wonderful!"

Ikkaku fixed him with a glare. "We're leaving." With that, he pulled forcefully, jerking Yumichika along behind him.

Totui stepped in front of him. "Son, please don't be so angry. He doesn't know any better. He doesn't know our past. You don't want to hurt him."

Ikkaku seethed. The words his father was using were carefully chosen, the perfected result of years of well-honed manipulation.

"It's not going to work," Ikkaku said in a low, threatening voice. "I would never hurt Yumichika, and he knows it."

Totui looked at Yumichika, his gaze going blatantly to the remnant of the scar from the two-week old encounter. "So I see." His voice carried a subtle but undeniable challenge to Ikkaku's assertion; his eyes contained a hidden knowledge that left Yumichika wilting beneath his scrutiny.

"If that's the case," Totui went on, "Then there's no reason why we can't be friends, son. The past is over and done. We have all of eternity here in Soul Society. Can't we start over?"

Ikkaku did not reply. Instead, without ever taking his eyes from his father's, he ordered, "Yumichika, go."

"Ikkaku—"

"Wait for me at the bridge."

"But—"

"Go!"

Yumichika rushed past them both and was gone.

Totui shook his head with a sad smile. "Now, why did you do that? You frightened and upset him."

Ikkaku shot a warning glance at the shopkeeper, who disappeared into the back room. Then he turned back to his father.

"Stay away from him."

"Why are you so suspicious? What do you think I'm going to do to him?" Totui asked.

"The same thing you've always done," Ikkaku replied. "But this time it's not going to work. I'm not the same person I was back then."

"You're certainly acting like it." Totui paused. "You seem to care a great deal for him. I didn't think it was possible." He tilted his head in mock consideration. "Then again, I can see what would draw you to him. He truly is dazzling to behold. But he seems so fragile. How has he been able to tolerate your belligerence?"

"Stay away from him," Ikkaku repeated.

"I have no reason to go near him," Totui shrugged, skimming past Ikkaku and going out into the street. "But I'm the last person you should be concerned about. A man like that . . . he'll be hard to hold onto. He turns every head – it's just a matter of time before he finds someone as beautiful as he is."

Now, it was Ikkaku's turn to laugh and be smug. "I've been the closest person in the world to him for the past twenty years. I'm not worried about losing him."

Totui was not moved. "Then you're a fool." He turned to leave, speaking back over his shoulder, "But then, you always were."

* * *

><p>Yumichika sat on the berm on the roadside leading up to the bridge. His head was so full of competing thoughts, he could not treat any idea with satisfaction.<p>

Ikkaku's father. Here in Venla. Since when? Permanent or passing through? Why hadn't Ikkaku told him? Why had he kept it a secret? And why the anger? Why the hatred?

He could not make out at all what had just transpired in the textiler's shop. It seemed to him that it should have been a joyful occasion, and yet it had been just the opposite. And now, he had little doubt in his mind just who had so angered Ikkaku two weeks ago.

But how? How could the man inspire such rage and violence in his own son? Yumichika had detected nothing glaringly or subtly provocative about the man. Clearly, Totui had noticed the lingering marks on Yumichika's face and immediately attributed them to Ikkaku. Given Ikkaku's history of violence, this was not surprising. After all, the Ikkaku Yumichika had met twenty years ago had been dedicated to conflict and confrontation. That was the Ikkaku his father likely saw when looking at his son here in Soul Society. But that Ikkaku was no more. He had vanished, or if not that, at least, he was being kept under tight wraps. Yumichika's recent injuries were no reflection of who Ikkaku really was. They were the result of an aberration, a moment of lost temper.

Weren't they? Surely, his father's return could not be turning him back to his old ways.

His head came up at the sound of someone approaching. Looking up, he saw it was Ikkaku and he leapt to his feet.

"Ikkaku." He sounded relieved. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," came the curt answer. "Let's go."

They began walking along the road back towards the mountains.

Yumichika did not wait. "Is that why you didn't want me to come to the village?"

Ikkaku nodded.

"Why didn't you want me to know about your father?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Yumichika," Ikkaku replied.

After several seconds, Yumichika, true to character, ignored Ikkaku's stated desire and went on. "He's the one who made you so angry that day, isn't he?"

"Yes."

They continued on without speaking until they were half-way up the mountain, then Yumichika resumed. "So, what are we going to do? We can't stay up in the cottage all the time just to avoid him."

Ikkaku's lack of a response brought dread into Yumichika's heart.

"You want us to leave, don't you?" he said.

"No," Ikkaku replied. "I want to keep him away from you."

"That shouldn't be too hard—"

"I don't want you going into the village without me," Ikkaku went on.

This did not sit well with Yumichika. "Isn't that a bit unreasonable? I mean, there are things I need to do that I can't always wait until you're available."

"I don't want to run the risk of you meeting him when I'm not around," Ikkaku stated.

"But why? Is he dangerous? He didn't appear that way to me," Yumichika persisted.

"That's just it," Ikkaku said, stopping and turning to face him. "He's dangerous in ways that you wouldn't understand."

"Then why don't you explain it to me?"

Ikkaku hesitated, battling against something inside him. At last, he said, "He'll do whatever he can to ruin our friendship."

Yumichika regarded him with a compassionate expression. "Is that what you're worried about? That he'll be able to come between us?" When Ikkaku did not answer, Yumichika continued. "You should know me better than that, Ikkaku."

"It's not just you, Yumichika," Ikkaku explained. "It's me, too. He has a way of . . . of honing in on weakness and using it. He can even take a man's strengths and use them against him. When I was young, I played right into his hands. Every time." He went to sit on a fallen tree trunk a few paces from the path. "I "kept thinking that maybe he had changed his mind about me, maybe he finally wanted to put things right. But he deceived me over and over again. Maybe I wanted to be deceived. Maybe I wanted to believe it too much. I hadn't completely given up hope." He shook his head in self-recrimination. "I was a fool."

Yumichika sat down beside him. "Well, I'm not really sure what you're talking about, but he's here now. Maybe—couldn't this be a chance to start over again?"

Ikkaku could not help but give a doubtful smile. "You're always optimistic, aren't you?"

"When I think it's warranted," Yumichika replied. "And besides, you said that back then you hadn't completely given up hope. Do you still have hope?"

"None," Ikkaku replied definitively. "And it's better this way. I don't want anything to do with him. It took me a long time to realize just how wicked a man he was. I won't be fooled again. I want to stay as far away from him as I can." He paused. "And I want you to stay away from him."

"I have no reason to go visit him," Yumichika stated, "But I won't be able to help it if I run into him in the village."

"That's why I don't want you going down there without me," Ikkaku pressed.

Yumichika spoke in soft voice. "You know I can't agree to that, Ikkaku."

Ikkaku had known this from the beginning, and he could not deny that it was too great an imposition to put on Yumichika. The best he could do was to try to convince Yumichika that it was in his own best interest to avoid Totui to the greatest extent possible. And this would not be so easily done, for as accommodating as Yumichika was where Ikkaku was concerned, it was also true that he had a stubbornness that could prove problematic. Ikkaku had to steer Yumichika's determination towards the proper goal – not an easy task, given Yumichika's trusting nature and earnest desire to see all things come to a happy end.

"Well, can you at least agree to head the other way when you see him coming?" he asked.

"I'll do my best," Yumichika replied.

That was not good enough. Ikkaku took him gently by the shoulders and stared him in the eye. "Yumichika, I know you think I'm over-reacting, but trust me . . . I know what I'm talking about. If anything—if he were to—" He didn't know how to say what he felt without sounding mushy – and Ikkaku hated mush. "Just stay away from him. Please."

Yumichika got to his feet. "I'll do my best," he repeated, this time with a slight smile that, while it did little to allay Ikkaku's concern, served to remind him of Yumichika's resilience and pluck. Maybe Yumichika would be the one to turn his father's tricks against him.

"Let's go," Yumichika said. "I've got to figure out what we're going to eat for the next two days since we didn't get anything at the market."

* * *

><p><em>I'll do my best.<em>

Over the next four months, Yumichika's best fell considerably short of what Ikkaku had hoped for. He saw Totui almost every weekend in the market place; but since Ikkaku was always with him during those times, that was acceptable. There was no interaction, not even acknowledgment. However, during the week, when Yumichika came down to visit the shops, he encountered Totui quite frequently. On these occasions when Yumichika was not accompanied by Ikkaku, he actually anticipated meeting Totui, for Yumichika was a soul who truly desired all things to be beautiful – including the relationship a son had with his father. And given the heartiness of his ego, he did not consider his attempts to effect a reconciliation to be so far-fetched.

And so he took the time to speak with Totui when they ran into each other in the streets or in a vendor's shop. From these moments, he learned that Totui lived with a woman and three children – none of them related. The sort of odd hodge-podge family that was the main population of the Soul Society. The children were all teenaged, working for him as well as sharing his home. Still, he referred to them as his children, just as he referred to the woman as his wife. And finally, he had a half dozen men and women who were farm hands and servants.

Totui was a man whose ability to make a fortune in life had followed him into the Soul Society. Why he had chosen farming was something Yumichika could not comprehend. Still, it mattered very little. His only interest in Totui was in bringing about peace between him and his son.

On every occasion, Totui was pleasant and friendly. He always asked after Ikkaku and his sighs appeared genuine to Yumichika's perception. Several times, his wife came into the village with him. She was very pretty, but there was something cold in her manner. Most often, he brought one or two of his farm hands with him. One, in particular, he seemed to be his favorite.

He was a young man, about the same age as Yumichika. His name was Pakkay, and he was very handsome. Yumichika noticed this right away, and he enjoyed seeing him. Pakkay had no refinement, conversational skills, or intellectual skills to speak of. He was bawdy in his humor, coarse in his manners, and indifferent to social customs. Other than his beauty and sturdy back, he had little to recommend him. Still, he reminded Yumichika very much of Ikkaku when they had first met, and that might have been why he found himself viewing Pakkay with fondness.

While Pakkay did not display the same sort of belligerence and anger as Ikkaku had all those years ago, he did have the same caustic tongue and devil-may-care attitude. This became glaringly apparent to Yumichika one afternoon about two months after he'd first met Totui.

He'd encountered Totui in the smithy, accompanied by Pakkay and another farm hand named Medrick, whose main talent appeared to be in picking at the blemishes on his face until they festered and scarred. When standing beside Pakkay, he was mean and disgusting; and he made Pakkay seem cultured in comparison.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Totui announced that he needed to go out to the dairy but he had no time to go himself. He turned to Pakkay and relayed the order to him.

Pakkay waited until the entire list was given, then said, "I don't know where the dairy is. I've never been there before."

Totui looked at Medrick, who shrugged.

"Then I guess I'll have to go myself," Totui sighed. "This will put me even more behind schedule." He looked to Yumichika and smiled. "I had no idea I'd have to spend so much time haggling with Yenset over the cost of my grain. Now, I'll be lucky to get back to the farm by sunset."

"I can show him where the dairy is," Yumichika offered. "I'm finished here in the village, and I have to head that direction anyway."

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose—" Totui began, but Yumichika cut him off.

"It's on the way home. It's not a problem."

The road that led out of town towards the northern mountains had a turn-off to the west just after the bridge. The dairy was about a half-mile down that lane. Yumichika passed the lane every time he visited the village. It was not at all out of his way, so it truly was not a problem.

The problem surfaced only moments after he and Pakkay had parted company with Totui and Medrick.

"Master Madarame told me you live up in the mountain with his son," Pakkay stated out of the blue.

And while it struck Yumichika as an odd thing to say, he also knew that Pakkay was a dullard when it came to conversation, so perhaps this was the best he could come up with as an opener.

"That's true," he replied amicably.

"He says his son hates him," Pakkay went on.

"Well, I . . . I think it's safe to say the two don't get along very well," was all Yumichika was willing to offer.

"But they both like you."

"I guess that's true."

They walked in silence until they passed the last building on the road leading out of the village, then Pakkay spoke again.

"I see the way Ikkaku looks at his father whenever we go to the mill." He paused. "I don't think there's any chance they'll ever like each other."

"We can only hope," Yumichika replied, although his own actions did not rely on hope alone.

"I see the way Ikkaku looks at you when you're together," Pakkay went on. "Master Madarame says you're lovers."

So great was the shock of this statement that Yumichika froze in his tracks. He stared in wide-eyed astonishment at Pakkay.

"Wh-what?"

"He says you two are lovers," Pakkay repeated, with no sign that he was moved in the slightest by Yumichika's reaction. "Aren't you?"

"N-n-no," Yumichika stammered, horrified that the idea had even been suggested. "Neither of us—neither of—we don't—we don't—we're not like—"

"I just thought, with the way you look, that maybe he might be right," Pakkay explained.

"The way I look . . . "

"Well . . . yeah. I mean, you have to know that you look . . . you . . . you're kind of girlish."

Yumichika didn't know how to respond. A part of him was offended and outraged at the whole _lovers_ idea. Another part of him found it strangely flattering and even humorous. As for the accusation of looking feminine . . . well, that was the price he paid for possessing unspeakable beauty.

"No, we're not lovers," he said at last. "And you can tell your master that."

Pakkay nodded. "I'm glad to hear it." They resumed walking. "That means I have a chance."

Yumichika's alarm went off. "A chance? At what?"

Pakkay shrugged. "You know."

Yumichika felt as if the world had gone completely haywire. "No, I don't. A chance at what?" He was barely able to get the words out.

Pakkay grinned. "What do you think?"

"I don't know what to think."

After a few seconds, Pakkay replied, "I like him."

"Ikkaku?" Yumichika asked unnecessarily.

"Yeah. And since you said you two aren't together in that way, well . . . I'm going to take a shot at it."

Instead of feeling affronted by Pakkay's audacity, Yumichika found himself pitying the man, for he was absolutely certain that Ikkaku would not be attracted to him in the least. It was a lost cause before even beginning.

"Pakkay-san," he began in a patronly manner. "You should know . . . Ikkaku isn't like that. "

"Like what?"

"He doesn't like men," Yumichika replied. "Or women, for that matter. He has no interest in what you're talking about."

"That's impossible," Pakkay protested. "Everyone has an interest in it in one way or another."

"Not Ikkaku," Yumichika persisted. "His only interest is in fighting. But if you won't listen to me, just don't be angry when your _shot_ misses its target."

"Thanks for the warning," Pakkay said, "But I'm used to getting what I want. You should know. You're beautiful, too. It's all we need. People give us what we want just by looking at us."

Yumichika smiled sadly. "That's not always a good thing. Here we are."

They had come to the dairy lane.

"It's at the end of this road. You can see it there behind the trees," Yumichika announced.

"Thank you," Pakkay said, then as he got ready to part. "You won't say anything to Ikkaku, will you?"

"No, I won't," Yumichika replied. That was one topic he was absolutely determined to avoid.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 Cracks

"_As the dawn is breaking on your future, my child,  
><em>_Is there none of your love alive?  
><em>_If every door you open, closes on me,  
><em>_I don't know if I can survive."_

_This Morning  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p>"If you—continue—playing these games—it—will only—get you into—trouble!"<p>

Ruri'iro Kujaku's admonition, delivered with each swing of the katana that bore his name and his power, did not come as a surprise to Yumichika.

No, Ruri'iro Kujaku had been warning him against getting involved in Ikkaku's family affairs from the moment Totui Madarame had appeared. The zanpakuto was deeply distrustful of Totui and made no secret of his feelings in the matter. Even though Yumichika had limited the kujaku in his access to the outside world, he had seen and heard enough to know that there was nothing good in the man.

And he could not understand why his master had not come to the same conclusion. As he delivered a final blow that sent the sword flying from Yumichika's grip, he pointed the tip of his own weapon at the base of his throat.

"Why are you so insistent on trying to bring those two together?" he demanded. "You know, you stand to lose the only friendship you really care about."

Yumichika raised a hand and brushed the sword away. "You like to exaggerate."

"And you like to disregard sound advice," Ruri'iro countered. "Honestly, kimi, what is it to you how Madarame feels about his father?"

Yumichika turned and walked the few paces to the lake where he splashed some water on his face. "Because it's not how things should be between a father and his son."

"You don't know why they're that way, and you'd do better to stay out of it," the reikon warned.

"Huh, you sound like Ikkaku now," Yumichika prodded, knowing this would prompt an indignant response.

Ruri'iro simpered. "You may not value my wisdom as you once did, but you can at least refrain from insulting me."

"I still value your wisdom," Yumichika replied. "I'm just not hearing any right now."

"Hpmh!" Ruri'iro spun away dramatically as his sword dissipated. "You're playing with fire. Don't say I didn't warn you. If Madarame finds out what you're trying to do, he'll flay you head to toe. And if you keep dropping veiled inquiries about that ignorant farm hand, he's going to get suspicious – of you."

Yumichika grinned. "Oh, let him. I'll take that chance."

"You like taking chances when it involves someone else's life," Ruri'iro chastised. "But you're risking making Madarame angry."

"If it works, he won't be angry at all. He and his father will finally be on good terms again."

"You're assuming they ever were on good terms to begin with," Ruri'iro pointed out. He drew in a deep breath and sighed. "You spend more time thinking about how to curry favor with Totui Madarame than you do with me."

"I don't need to curry your favor," Yumichika teased.

But Ruri'iro Kujaku was not in the mood for joking. "All that time and effort you are putting into this little project of yours could be better spent here with me."

Yumichika stepped up behind him and touched his arm. "I'm here with you now. Why can't you enjoy it?"

Ruri'iro didn't answer right away. He really wasn't sure why the times with his master had been less than satisfying as of late. They had become less frequent, shorter in duration, and without the same sort of blissful concupiscence that had marked the vast majority of their previous meetings. He might have been tempted to place the blame at Ikkaku's feet; but he knew Yumichika made his own decisions. He was not bullied or forced into spending less time in his inner world. Madarame didn't even know about his inner world and made few demands on Yumichika's time.

It seemed that, as Yumichika grew more powerful and confident in his abilities, that he desired less and less of Ruri'iro Kujaku's company. As his strength and prowess increased, he preferred to spend more time in the outside world. This, in itself, did not disturb Ruri'iro Kujaku; but the fact that his role in his master's life was diminishing – that was cause for sadness, and yet he could not bring himself to admit as much to Yumichika. That would be weakness, and Ruri'iro Kujaku had no weaknesses.

"Because I know it will be over too soon," he replied at length.

"I can't live inside this world," Yumichika pointed out in a gentle voice. "I have a life outside of here. I can't spend all my time with you."

"Yes, I know," came the dispirited reply.

"Ruri'iro Kujaku."

The reikon turned to face him.

"You can't be selfish," Yumichika said. "And neither can I."

"I'm not being selfish. I'm trying to look out for you and guide you," Ruri'iro replied. "But you won't listen to me. You stopped listening to me months ago."

Yumichika sighed audibly. "Kimi . . . let's not argue. It's almost time for me to go back."

Ruri'iro Kujaku frowned. "Then go back."

With that, he sprang off and flew from the cave.

Yumichika did not go after him. He understood the kujaku's temperamental nature, and he would not feed it with a show of emotion. He would not plead or beg. He would not demand or command. He would do what he had found himself doing more and more frequenly; let the flustered peacock go stew for a while and when the ruffled feathers had smoothed a bit, go back and use his own powers of persuasion to woo the disaffected bird back into his hand.

It may not have been the keenest solution, but it kept the peace for the most part. Ruri'iro Kujaku needed attention and could not stay away for long. Yumichika knew how much the peacock adored him, and so he felt confident in his assurance that he would always return.

Even if he hadn't felt such surety, it would have made little difference. It was the way things were. Yumichika had grown enough in power to the point where he no longer needed to have his zanpakuto's agreement in order to carry out whatever he wanted to do. He had mastered the movement that enabled him to cross great distances in a flash. He had come a long way towards mastering shikai in his inner world while still refusing to release in the outer world. He might have been arrogant, but he was not foolish enough to want to test his skills in that way. He'd slowly become cognizant of his own riatsu and learned how to control it, although there were still times when it got away from him. Never before had he felt in control of so many aspects of his life. And if that sense of security made him less dependent on Ruri'iro Kujaku, then he considered that to be a good thing.

And if he ended up spending less time with him, all the more reason why they should try to make the most of the time they spent together.

Why couldn't Ruri'iro Kujaku understand it?

There was no malice involved. It was just the logical progression of their relationship.

Yumichika emerged from his inner world into the sun-drenched meadow. A glance above showed him the sun was directly overhead. It was near midday, and he still had a lot of work to do. To his own surprise, he had spent more time than he'd intended in his inner world. In an uncomfortable way, it drove home Ruri'iro's comment about their time together ending too soon.

He got to his feet and began walking back to the cottage. As he approached, he saw a man heading along the path away from the cottage, downhill towards the village.

It was Totui Madarame.

Yumichika hurried his pace. "Madarame-san?" he called out.

Totui stopped and turned.

"Yumichika-kun," he said in a voice that was meant to be neutral but could not mask the agitation beneath.

"What brings you up here?" Yumichika asked. "It's a long way. Do you need something to drink?"

"No, I'm fine," Totui replied. "I, uh . . . I came up here to talk to Ikkaku."

Yumichika was puzzled. "He's at work today."

Totui seemed to be struggling with what to say. At last, he said, "I was just at the mill, and he wasn't there."

Yumichika could not understand why this was so unsettling to Totui.

"Oh, that's nothing to worry about. He could have stepped out," he said easily. "Yenset may have sent him on an errand. " A pause. "Is it urgent that you see him?"

Again, Totui hesitated. "No, it's not—it's not urgent." He seemed to be on the cusp of saying something, but then shook his head in a resigned manner and turned once again to leave. "Don't tell him I came here."

"Madarame-san?" Yumichika went after him. "What's wrong?"

Totui kept his face averted. "I don't want to cause any trouble. I know how much you care about him, and . . . well, you know how he feels about me." He paused. "Anything I have to say to him, I need to say myself. I don't want to draw you into this."

Yumichika took hold of his arm. "If it involves Ikkaku, it involves me. Is he in some kind of trouble?"

Totui looked down at Yumichika, and an expression of intense sorrow came into his face. "You're very good to him, aren't you?"

When Yumichika said nothing, Totui seemed to gather resolve and courage. He stepped back forcefully. "I'm going to take care of this myself. I don't want to see you suffer."

With that, he strode purposefully away along the path.

Yumichika stood dumbfounded, staring after him and wondering what on earth had just taken place.

* * *

><p>It was not always easy to keep Ruri'iro Kujaku suppressed.<p>

There were times when the azure peacock was so persistent that it took a concentrated effort on Yumichika's part to prevent him from bursting in upon his consciousness.

Now was one of those times.

In fact, Ruri'iro had been clamoring for attention from the moment Totui had left.

Yumichika had no one but himself to blame. It was his own weakness that had led to the breaching of all barriers in the face of Totui's odd behavior. As always, Ruri'iro Kujaku had been there waiting for a glimpse into his master's outside world. He had gotten that glimpse, and now he wanted to say something about it.

But Yumichika did not want to hear. Maybe Ruri'iro had been right in his earlier warnings. So what if he had been? Yumichika did not want to listen to his scolding or his crowing his wisdom. He had other things to think about – like whether or not he should tell Ikkaku that his father had been up on the mountain. And the fact that he had absolutely no idea why. It was not as if the journey up to the cottage was just a stop on the way to anyplace. It was an arduous two-hour trek, not lightly undertaken.

Whatever had been on Totui's mind had been important enough to send him on the hike up the mountain.

Perhaps there was a chance that Ikkaku might know why he had come. Yumichika decided it was worth the risk of asking.

* * *

><p>When Ikkaku arrived back at the cottage that evening, Yumichika made sure he had a delicious dinner of all his favorites waiting. He doted on every word, sparse though they were, that Ikkaku spoke, and he brought out their finest sake after they'd finished eating.<p>

And then he got to the point.

"Your father was up here today."

Ikkaku looked up in alarm from his sake. "Up here? All the way up here?"

Yumichika nodded.

"What did he want?"

"He was looking for you," Yumichika replied. "He wouldn't tell me why. He just said that he'd been by the mill and you hadn't been there. So, he came up here looking for you."

"Did he say anything else?" Ikkaku was wary.

"No, not really. He just said he didn't want to get me involved," Yumichika answered.

Ikkaku pushed away from the table angrily. "That's crap! If he didn't want to get you involved, he wouldn't have come up here!" He moved about the cottage in abrupt, directionless steps.

"He left without telling me anything," Yumichika assured him. "I could tell something was bothering him, but he wouldn't say a word about it. He said that anything he had to tell you, he would tell you himself."

"Mark my word, Yumichika," Ikkaku said, looking at him, his face made more intense in the glow of the fire. "He's up to something." His hands were tight fists. "And now he's targeting you. I warned him to stay away from you."

"Targeting me? For what?"

"So he can mess with you," Ikkaku replied. "He's going to play games with you, Yumichika." He spun and pounded a fist against the wall. "Damn it! Why did he have to come here!"

Yumichika got to his feet and moved to stand behind him. He placed a hand on his shoulder. "Ikkaku, don't be so upset. He wasn't playing games with me. He was just looking for you."

Ikkaku looked back over his shoulder at him. There were times when Yumichika's naiveté astounded him. "He knows where to find me, Yumichika. He knows I work at the mill. And he knows that he's to keep away from you."

"Don't be so suspicious, Ikkaku—"

"Don't tell me not to be suspicious, Yumichika!" Ikkaku snapped. "He's my father, and I know what he's like! I know what he's trying to do—"

"What's he trying to do?" Yumichika asked.

Ikkaku grabbed him by the arms. "He's trying to get to me through you! Don't you get it? He doesn't care what happens to you as long as he can use you to hurt me!"

"Ikkaku . . . "

"This is what he's always done! He'll never change!" Ikkaku went on, his fingers clenching tighter.

"He can't use me," Yumichika said quietly, ignoring the pain in his arms. "I would never let him use me against you."

"You already have!" Ikkaku blasted. "You've let him put the suspicion in your mind! You're wondering what's going on? Where was I today when I wasn't at the mill?"

Yumichika was still calm and quiet. "I'm not suspicious. I wasn't worried about that at all. I trust you." He paused. "And you should trust me."

Ikkaku regarded him steadily for several seconds then released him with a sigh. "You don't know what that man's capable of."

"No, but I know you and what you're capable of," Yumichika replied. "And you know me. I'm not suspicious of you, Ikkaku." He paused. "I _am_ worried that you're letting your imagination get the better of you."

Ikkaku frowned and moved to put some distance between them. "There are certain things I just won't say, Yumichika," he began. "So you'll just have to read between the lines." He drew in a long breath and held it for a moment. "The worst mistake he could ever make is going after you. And I won't let that happen – ever."

His words sunk into Yumichika's soul. "I know that, Ikkaku. But believe me, he didn't do anything to me." Again, he followed him to where he now stood by the window, looking out over the garden and across the meadow. He was about to do something he had not done in many, many years.

He called upon his ability. This time, when drew up and brushed gently against him, the feeling was charged with warmth yet carefully controlled. "Don't you think maybe it's time for you and your father to come to some sort of peace?" He moved in front of him, maintaining contact between their bodies. "This might be a chance to finally mend some fences – or at least to let the past go."

Ikkaku looked past him out the window. In the garden and the meadow beyond, a flock of migrating birds had taken pause on their journey. The main body of the flock hopped through the grass, looking for insects. But in the trees on the periphery were the watchers, the sentries, ready to send up the alarm at any sign of danger. They were vigilant. They did not let their guard down even long enough to snatch at passing insects.

They both taunted and bolstered Ikkaku with their dedication. He felt an affinity with them at that moment.

How easy it would be to relax for one moment. To give in to Yumichika's wiles and let his words take root. Reconciliation was always desireable. Peace and contentment were always worth pursuing. Perhaps this really was a chance . . .

His gaze dropped to take in the sight of Yumichika looking up at him with a serene gleam in his eye. The feel of Yumichika's body against his was something he had grown used to given the amount of sparring they did, but it was clear that this time, Yumichika was using his riatsu in an attempt to ease Ikkaku's troubled mind. It never ceased to amaze Ikkaku just how much power Yumichika possessed, and yet he was still vulnerable and not even remotely close to using that power. All the horrors that had befallen him could not destroy a nature that was uncompromisingly trusting. And trust was the problem, for it was an indiscriminate trust. It was the sort of trust that searched out hope, even when there was none.

Ikkaku stepped back. "Yumichika."

Yumichika looked at him expectantly.

"I don't want you to talk to him again – ever," Ikkaku stated.

Yumichika was surprised and mildly insulted. His trick had not worked on Ikkaku. Yet, he was not about to give up. This was important to him The idea of Ikkaku's father being so close and yet the two of them so estranged was simply intolerable to Yumichika. Here was finally a chance for him to repay Ikkaku for all he'd done for him.

Or, like any man consumed with his own beauty, he had to at least make sure that he was still able to wield his greatest strength at will. He approached Ikkaku again, but this time Ikkaku held up a hand.

"Don't do that, Yumichika. Do you think so little of me that you would try to do use that on me at a time like this?"

Yumichika drew back stunned and ashamed.

"I know it was like a game to you before, but it's not anymore," Ikkaku went on. "Not with him around. I can't afford to take any chances."

"Ikkaku—"

"No, listen to me, Yumichika. I won't ask you to leave this place, but I won't stand by either and let you become his victim," Ikkaku said forcefully. "And I might have to do some things that will seem drastic to you, but it's because you can't see him for what he is. You don't know what he's doing, but I do."

"Ikkaku, what—what are talking about? Are you afraid he's going to hurt me? You know I've gotten pretty good at taking care of myself—"

"You have _no_ defenses against the kind of battle he's waging," Ikkaku warned. "The way you're talking now is proof. All this blather about giving him a chance and . . . and you really believe he doesn't want to hurt you! He'll do whatever he has to to you or anyone else if he thinks he can get to me."

"But why? Why do you think he wants to hurt you so much? I haven't seen any sign of that—"

"You don't even know him!" Ikkaku bellowed in frustration. "I knew him for 26 years in the world of the living! I know exactly what he is! And my past is my own and not for discussion! You either believe me or you don't! If you think my feelings about him are unwarranted, then the only way to prove it to you would be to let him use you, but I'm not—" He stopped suddenly. The realization struck him that it was already too late. The very fact that he was standing here arguing with Yumichika over is father was proof that his father had already won, was already using Yumichika against him – and Yumichika was not even aware of it.

Yumichika was staring at him wide-eyed. He looked almost frightened.

"I'm sorry," Ikkaku said in a forlorn voice. "I didn't mean to get so upset."

"It's alright, Ikkaku," Yumichika said quietly. 'I guess I should have just kept my mouth shut."

Ikkaku picked up his sword and went to the door. "I need to go cool off for a little while. I won't go far."

He disappeared out the door and into the forest.

* * *

><p>"Can I come out, Master?"<p>

Yumichika sighed from where he sat on the wooden bench outside the cottage garden's stone wall. "Not right now, kimi," he said inwardly.

There was a brief hesitation. "Then, will you come in?"

"Not now." No sooner had he replied than he felt the zanpakuto's despair, which was potent enough to rival his own. Ruri'iro Kujaku wasn't asking for anything unreasonable, and Yumichika knew he was being unfair to him. The truth was simply that he did not want to see the reikon – or anyone else – at the moment. Still, he did not want to be the cause of anyone's unhappiness.

He could still converse with Ruri'iro without having to see him.

"What did you want to tell me?" he asked.

"I didn't have anything particular in mind," Ruri'iro replied. "I could sense that you were upset, and since I haven't been able to see or hear anything, I wanted to know what it was and if you—if I could be of any use to you."

Yumichika considered. It was to be expected that Ruri'iro Kujaku would inquire after that which he could no longer see and hear. He had only sensed his master's distress and was now offering to help. But it was precisely Yumichika's feelings regarding Ikkaku that required protecting, for Ruri'iro certainly disapproved of his master's devotion, and he harbored a considerable jealousy. The zanpakuto's easy access to viewing Yumichika's actions, hearing his words, and feeling his emotions had long ago begun to present a problem that Yumichika had no desire to contend with. He did not want to argue and constantly be defending his actions and decisions. And so, as Ruri'iro Kujaku had taught him more and more how to control the power at his fingertips, the zanpakuto had also contributed to his own constraint; and it seemed to Yumichika that Ruri'iro had been aware of this but as the servant to his master, he could not withhold that which he was, by duty and nature, bound to impart.

Still, just because Ruri'iro instructed Yumichika as expected, that did not mean he was fully obedient, nor did it mean he was the type to capitulate to all his master's demands, especially when those demands involved Ikkaku. So, the idea that Ruri'iro might be able to "be of use" in this particular situation was simply not a possibility.

"I'm fine," Yumichika said. "You don't need to worry."

"But—"

'It doesn't involve you, so you don't need to be concerned," Yumichika said.

He felt a snap of anger then heard Ruri'iro's voice, sharp and with the tone of one offended. "If it involves you, it involves me. And your upset is powerful enough that you couldn't block it from me. Why won't you let me help?"

"Kimi . . . I can handle it on my own," Yumichika replied without energy. "Leave me in peace for a while, please."

"I see. I won't disturb you anymore."

Yumichika sensed a pervasive sadness, the likes of which he had never felt from Ruri'iro Kujaku before. And as great as the guilt it inspired was, even greater was Yumichika's desire not to see his zanpakuto. The sadness would pass. The guilt would pass. But the situation with Ikkaku would not resolve on its own. And left to Ikkaku, it would only fester and decay.

_I don't want you to talk to him again – ever._

It would not be the first time Yumichika had disobeyed Ikkaku's orders. It probably wouldn't be the last.

* * *

><p>The place had become forlorn and joyless. Even the peacocks were dull and without vibrancy. The water was still and dark, the cavern was silent. It brought him no comfort.<p>

Ruri'iro Kujaku sat on the ledge overlooking the lake.

His heart was heavy. This feeling that was stealing through his thoughts, taking over his body . . . it was sadness. He knew sadness. He had seen it in his master, in Madarame, and others as he had looked out through Yumichika's eyes. He had even felt it himself, but never to this degree. Sadness had seemed, to him, to be a minor nuisance. He had not quite been able to understand how others could succumb to it.

But he understood now.

It was a miserable thing, but one he could not shake. Not on his own, at least. But the only one who could free him from this feeling had seemed little interested, consumed with worries of his own.

Ruri'iro Kujaku sighed out loud.

There had been a time, not so long ago, when his master would have done anything to be with him, to linger in his embrace, to spar and tease and goad him. Now, even on the occasions when Yumichika was with Ruri'iro Kujaku, he tended to retreat from the zanpakuto's touch, to avoid the intimacy that had been such a central part of their relationship.

It was painful almost beyond bearing. Yumichika was the total of Ruri'iro's existence. Nothing else had ever mattered. Nothing else could matter. The beautiful world in which he resided, the birds, the waves, the temple, the vines . . . none of it meant anything without Yumichika there to enjoy and explore it with him.

Yet, over the past few months, something had been taking his master away from him. Yumichika came less and less often. Ruri'iro was denied with greater frequency access to the outside world. Most of the time, he was barred from knowing his master's thoughts, and sometimes, he was even blocked from sensing his feelings. The few times when Yumichika let his guard down or was too preoccupied to sequester himself, Ruri'iro had not been able to detect anything to account for the change. Whatever the cause, it was being shielded from the reikon, and this led him to form conclusions of his own.

"He doesn't want me anymore," he lamented. "He wishes I were something else. He's too ashamed to even acknowledge my existence." He stood up and stared down at the water. "All Madarame's talk about kido and cowardice has made him not want me."

It was a frightening prospect, for without the companionship of his master, who else did he have? And without the love of his master, would anyone else even suffice?

A shudder rattled through his body at the very thought.

He flew down to the water's edge, hesitated a moment, then leaned over to see if he could put his hand in the water. He was repelled with an almost violent burst of energy.

He could not understand it. The pool was _his _power, _his_ reservoir of strength and spirit energy. It was depthless, unfathomable. And yet it had never been his to control. From the first moment of its discovery, he had not been able to penetrate it or to prevent his master from partaking of it. And now, it repulsed him with more intensity than ever. How could it be that he was not even the master of his own power?

He froze.

That was just it. He wasn't the master. He was the . . . _servant_.

_The servant._

He was there to do his master's bidding, no matter how his master treated him, no matter if his master cherished or despised him, no matter if his master was proud or ashamed of him.

Slowly as the sun borrowing its way into the dawn, the sadness and the fear gave way a burgeoning anger.

He was a servant. But even worse, he was a servant to a master who was acting, in turn, like a servant to a barbarian. The way Yumichika followed after Madarame – feeding and clothing him, keeping house, tolerating his selfish behavior, coddling him and fulfilling his every wish – it made Ruri'iro's blood boil. And how did Madarame repay him? With sarcasm, brow-beating, and a child-like intransigence that would push any other person over the edge.

But not his master. Not Yumichika. Yumichika quietly submitted to Madarame's every whim. It was infuriating. No wonder Yumichika had sought to hide such behavior. It was humiliating in every way that mattered, and yet it was the manner he had chosen.

Ruri'iro Kujaku found himself shaking unexpectedly. Was his anger that powerful that it showed in his body? And why could he not think of something other than that anger? Alone in this world, he could not find the distractions that so readily drawn him in before. For certain, they still existed; only they held no interest for him. He could not find the motivation to do anything but brood.

And wait for Yumichika to come to him.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19 Pakkay's Game

"_What do we need?  
><em>_What do we hunger for?  
><em>_Who holds the secret?  
><em>_Who will know?"_

_Strange Times  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p>When was he ever going to learn? He'd been living in the mountains for sixteen years, and still he hadn't learned how to dress properly for the winter weather. It was just so difficult to be fashionable under layers and layers of bulky clothes. And he firmly believed that looking good was just as important, if not more so, than being comfortable.<p>

However, the weather on this particular morning in mid-November just might cause him to reassess that belief. He had started out early – it had still been dark; but the sky had been mostly clear. He could see the stars and the moon more often than not. He'd not smelled rain on the air, and there had been no wind in the trees. When he had gone about halfway down the mountain, the rain began – a cold, biting November rain, occasionally whipped up in the wind, but mostly just heavy and steady.

Yumichika had no intention of walking the final three-quarters of an hour in such weather. He resorted to the speed movement Ruri'iro Kujaku had taught him, daring to go as far as the bridge on the northern road just outside the village and trusting no one would be out to see him.

From there he ran to the textile shop, bursting in the door with all the grace and dignity of a soaked rabbit.

The shop owner, a man who simply went by the name Rudi, met him with a broad grin. "Look at you, Yumichika-san! You're drenched! Didn't you even have the sense to carry a shirm?"

"I didn't know it was going to rain!" Yumichika replied with a chuckle.

"November in the mountains . . . why would you think it was going to rain," the merchant teased.

"Point well taken," Yumichika conceded.

"Come in the back. You can put on something else and I'll set your clothes by the stove to dry out a bit. You can't go back up the mountain like that. You'll get sick," Rudi insisted.

Yumichika did not need convincing. He followed Rudi behind the counter and into the back room where Rudi's wife, Petra, was sorting through a tray of needles in preparation to put them out in the store.

When she looked up and saw Yumichika, she was out of her seat in an instant. "My word, Ayasegawa-san! Look at you! Come here, come here! Stand by the stove and warm up."

Rudi began to speak, but he really had no chance. "Love, I thought we could—"

"I'll go get you something else to wear while these dry out. Off! Take them off immediately," Petra insisted, then to her husband. "Bring more wood for the stove. There's none left here. You'll have to go to the cellar."

"Yes, dear." Rudi was off to accomplish his assigned task.

Petra positioned Yumichika in front of the stove and drew over a woven basket. "Put your things in here. There's a blanket over there on the chair. I'll be back in a few seconds with something warm for you to wear. Poor fool! You really are all looks and no brains." She was still chattering away as she went out of the room.

Yumichika began stripping off his wet clothing. The warmth of the stove felt good against his skin. He rubbed his hands vigorously over his arms for a few seconds before reaching for the blanket.

As he stretched across the table, he heard a voice from behind him.

"That's nice."

Yumichika turned to see Pakkay standing in the doorway to the shop. The way the farmhand was looking at him made him feel ill at ease. He quickly picked up the blanket and wrapped it around him.

"Oh, don't do that," Pakkay chuckled. "You kinda warmed the place up."

"You'll have to find other sources of heat," Yumichika replied. He turned back towards the stove to warm himself. He hated to admit it, but ever since Ruri'iro Kujaku's admonishment to him about Pakkay, he'd viewed the farmhand in a different light. He'd seen him at least half a dozen times since Totui's visit, since Ruri'iro's warning; and each time, no matter how he tried to maintain an open mind, the suspicions rattled about in the back of his head. He could not look at Pakkay now without distrust and dislike. The only thing worse was the realization that Ruri'iro Kujaku had started the kettle stirring and had probably been right about Pakkay all along.

"Oh, I have," Pakkay replied. "But you know that." A pause. "By the way, I wanted to thank you for covering for us."

Yumichika did not look at him. "Covering for you?"

"I thought it was over the other week," Pakky replied, shaking his head in relief. "We got back to the mill just in time."

Now, Yumichika raised his eyes. Pakkay stood just inside the doorway, scanning the shop as if on look-out. A smug, self-satisfied grin played on his face. His stance was not that of a man who feared some as yet unrevealed danger, but rather that of a man who relished the risks involved in whatever he was referring to.

"What are you talking about?"

"Huh?" Pakkay looked back over his shoulder.

"What are you talking about?" Yumichika asked again.

"Oh, oh . . . you know, a couple weeks ago – or maybe it's been a month or so now – but when Madarame-sama went up to your place looking for us, you covered for us," Pakkay answered.

"Totui Madarame has only been to the cottage once, and he wasn't looking for you," Yumichika replied, perturbed. "And that was six weeks ago. I've seen you plenty of times since then. Why are you bringing this up now?"

Pakkay ignored everything Yumichika had said except for the first sentence. "Well, he really was looking for me, but . . . well, he didn't know for sure if we were together."

"Who is we?"

"Me and Ikkaku." The way he said it made it sound as if it were obvious.

Yumichika raised a cynical eyebrow. "Why would you and Ikkaku be together?"

A lewd grin crossed Pakkay's face. "You know."

Yumichika did not hesitate a second before saying, "You're lying."

Pakkay was dismissive. "Why lying? I told you I wanted him. You said you weren't his lover, so what did you expect? I was telling the truth."

"You're lying," Yumichika repeated.

"Then why did you cover for us?"

Yumichika stared at him without speaking.

"Neither of us thought Madarame-sama would suspect so soon," Pakkay went on. "But someone must have tipped him off." He narrowed his eyes in a suggestive gaze. "I'll bet it was you, wasn't it?"

"You want me to believe that you and Ikkaku are lovers?" Yumichika asked, his voice and face unreadable.

"He's told you so himself—"

"He's told me no such thing," Yumichika interrupted.

Pakkay hesitated for a moment. "He hasn't? He told me that you knew, so I assumed he was the one who told you."

"Why would he tell me something that isn't true?"

"You don't have to believe me. That's okay. Either way, all I'm asking is that you continue to keep it a secret. Madarame-sama would fire me if he knew."

"Why would he fire you?" Yumichika asked.

"Are you kidding? After all the work he's put in trying to get back on Ikkaku's good side, to learn that one of his workers is uh, you know. He'd be so angry, I'd be out the door in a second," Pakkay explained.

Yumichika narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. "You're still lying," he said, then turned to leave the shop.

"You know, you act awfully jealous for someone who's not turning the hay," Pakkay threw out, a clear challenge in his voice.

"Turning the hay?"

"You know what I mean," Pakkay said. "I think maybe my boss was right. You and Ikkaku _are_ lovers. Or you wish you were."

Yumichika drew in a deep breath and turned slowly, a manufactured smile of pity on his face. "Do you honestly think that if I wanted Ikkaku, I wouldn't be able to have him?"

"That's what I don't get," Pakkay said, leaning against the table. "How can you live in the same house and not be attracted to him? There's something about him—"

"You don't need to tell me about Ikkaku," Yumichika cut him off. "But I think you need a reality check. There's no way Ikkaku is having any kind of physical relationship with you."

"You can believe that if you want," Pakkay shrugged. "Just please don't tell Totui."

"What are you doing in here anyway? Is Totui with you?" Yumichika asked.

""Naah. He's back at the farm. He sent me and a couple of the others in to do some errands. He hates going out in the rain, so he sends us." He winked. "Works out good for me." He saw the expression on Yumichika's face. "There's that look. You _are_ jealous."

Yumichika shook his head. "That's not jealousy. It's disbelief."

Before he could say anything more, Petra entered the room with the spare clothes.

"Oh! Pakkay! I didn't hear you come in. I'll be with you in a second – has my husband still not come back with the wood? Honestly, a snail moves faster. Yumichika-san, here, put these on. Well, Pakkay, at least I see you dressed sensibly, unlike some beautiful fools. Honestly, do you boys lose all your sense when you enter Soul Society? It's not as if the weather is unpredictable, is it? November. Rain. I'll tell you, they ought to make you pass a test before you can come here." Petra went on and on; and Yumichika was grateful for her gregarious intrusion. It got Pakkay out of the room very quickly.

Now, Yumichika had to find out the truth of what was going on. And he knew where he was going to start that search.

* * *

><p>"Yumichika, what are you doing here? And what—what the hell are you wearing?" Ikkaku actually laughed. "I didn't think you even owned anything that hideous."<p>

"It's not mine," Yumichika replied. "I got caught in the rain this morning, and Petra and Rudi let me wear these while they dry out my clothes."

"And you went out in public like that? How times have changed," Ikkaku teased.

"Well, I have buying to do, and I can't wait until my clothes dry. I'm going to pick them up before I go back to the cottage," Yumichika explained.

Ikkaku returned to shoveling grain into the funnel that led down to the sacking room. "Well, at least you shouldn't run into many people what with the weather."

"Yeah, I've only run into Pakkay," Yumichika said casually.

"Pakkay? The farmhand?" Ikkaku stopped shoveling.

"Yeah," Yumichika nodded. He could plainly see the increase in Ikkaku's interest.

"Was my father there?" This, of course, was the cause of the interest.

"No. He'd sent out some of his hands to run errands."

Ikkaku made a derisive face. "I'm surprised my father trusts someone like that. He seemed pretty, uh, well, you know, dumb."

Yumichika chuckled. "He's not very clever," he agreed, then went fishing. "But he is a very handsome man."

"Huh," Ikkaku grunted.

"Don't you think so?" Yumichika probed.

"I've never even thought about it," Ikkaku replied carelessly.

"I think he is." Yumichika stated.

"If you want to see beautiful, go home and look in the mirror," Ikkaku quipped.

Yumichika smiled demurely. "I'm glad to know you still think so." He paused. "But you know, there are different kinds of beauty. Pakkay is more of the . . . rugged, brutish type. Kind of like you."

"Are you trying to pick a fight with me?" Ikkaku asked with a gleam in his eye. "The rain has created a huge mud bog right out back. I'd be happy to throw you down in it."

"I don't want a fight," Yumichika grinned. "I'm just making conversation."

"Well, you're sounding like you're a little envious of him. Please tell me that's not it."

"Of course not," Yumichika replied with spirit. "What reason would I have to envy him? You know I've never been jealous of anyone."

"Yes, I know," Ikkaku acknowledged, then he added, "But it's best if you stay away from him altogether."

"Why?"

"Because he works for my father, and I don't trust anyone who has any association with that man," Ikkaku said.

Yumichika didn't need to hear anymore. This had been a complete waste of his time, except that it had been a pleasant few minutes spent with Ikkaku. Clearly, Ikkaku was not involved in any way with Pakkay. The idea was as absurd now as it had been when Pakkay had first suggested it.

"I understand," he conceded. "Well, I'd better finish up my business." As he turned to go, he heard Ikkaku's voice.

"You should dress like that more often. I kind of like it."

Yumichika rolled his eyes and was out the door.

* * *

><p>As it turned out, he would end up having to wear his borrowed clothes longer than anticipated, for upon returning to the textile shop after completing his rounds, he found his own clothes were still very damp. He agreed to let Petra keep them until dry, and he would pick them up on his next time down in the village.<p>

He took the road out of town, but instead of heading for the mountain trail, he went along the valley, coming, after a very messy trip, to Totui Madarame's farm. It was a large, sprawling establishment with the farmhouse located at the base of the northern range of mountains. It was reached by a well-maintained approach dissecting two fields, now filled with the cattle that had been brought down from the high pastures for the winter.

As Yumichika drew near, the rain, which had let up earlier, began again. He had come to the furthest away of the outbuildings, and to his surprise, here he encountered Totui just as the latter was ducking inside the building for protection against a sudden torrential downpour.

"Yumichika-kun!" Totui exclaimed, motioning quickly for him to come inside.

Yumichika sprinted across the last twenty meters and joined him under the cover of what appeared to be a storage barn for farming implements.

"What are you doing out this way? And in this weather?" Totui asked.

"I was doing business in the village, and I—I wanted to come talk to you about something, so I decided to stop by on my way home," Yumichika replied. "As for the weather . . . well, the rain has been stalking me today, as you can see."

"Yes, I see," Totui replied with a smile. "Do you want to come inside and warm up? Meghan can find you something else to wear—"

"That's alright," Yumichika deferred. "I'm already on my first set of borrowed clothes."

"I was wondering about that. Those don't look like your preferred fashions." Totui's expression was pleasant. "So, what can I do for you?"

"I, uh . . . I wanted to talk to you about Pakkay," Yumichika began.

A knowing look came into Totui's eye, and he appeared slightly distressed. "Pakkay. Go on."

"I think—I think he's a dishonest man," Yumichika went on. "And I think he's trying to cause trouble between you and Ikkaku."

Totui gave a sad grin. "Ikkaku and I don't need anyone to cause trouble for us. We cause enough ourselves." He paused then looked Yumichika close in the eye. "I take it Ikkaku doesn't know you're here."

"No," Yumichika confirmed. "I wanted to handle this on my own."

"Go on."

"Pakkay has been telling me that he and Ikkaku are—have been, uh, seeing each other," Yumichika put forth, embarrassed to even say such a thing.

"Yes." Totui's reaction was cool, expectant.

And it caught Yumichika off-guard. "And well, I—I think he's—he's lying. Ikkaku would never have anything to do with him. And just today, Pakkay told me—he told me not to tell you, because you would fire him. But why risk a lie that could get him fired? I just think he's trying to cause trouble."

"Oh, he's trying to cause trouble, alright," Totui agreed. "But not for me."

Yumichika raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"He's trying to cause trouble between you and Ikkaku," Totui explained. "I've noticed that about him since the day I met him. He hates anyone he thinks might be considered more beautiful than he is. And he hates you. He's trying to make you distrust Ikkaku."

It occurred to Yumichika that this was the same tactic Ikkaku had accused his father of using.

"Pakkay said you thought Ikkaku and I were lovers," Yumichika said, almost as in inquiry.

"Well, yes . . . aren't you? Anyone can see that my son is very attached to you," Totui replied.

"We're not lovers," Yumichika answered. "So, if that's what Pakkay is trying to destroy, then he's wasting a lot of energy on nothing."

"You know, that's why I came up the mountain that day, looking for Ikkaku. I was afraid maybe he'd fallen to Pakkay's advances, and I didn't want to see either of you get hurt. It's clear Ikkaku is very happy with you, and I don't want to see anything ruin that happiness. I made a lot of mistakes when Ikkaku was growing up. I want this chance to make things right."

His words were touching, and Yumichika felt more determined than ever to effect a reconciliation between the two.

"Well, I think there's no chance of Pakkay enticing Ikkaku," Yumichika said with surety. "The only way he'd even get Ikkaku's attention would be to take up fighting as a hobby."

Totui laughed. "I see some things haven't changed at all. Ikkaku always loved a good fight. I'm sure the only reason he hasn't torn this whole place up is because of you. You seem to have done him more good than anyone else ever could."

Yumichika tilted his head in humility. "He means a lot to me."

"And there's no doubt in my mind that you mean a lot to him." Totui looked outside. "Looks like the rain has let up a little bit. Should we try to get back to the house before it starts again? You can join us for dinner."

"I would love to, but Ikkaku will wonder where I am," Yumichika replied. "I have to get home and prepare his supper."

"You know you're going to get caught in more rain," Totui pointed out the obvious. "This is just a short break."

Yumichika shrugged. "Look at me. Does it make a difference at this point?" he said with a chuckle. "But keep the dinner invitation open. Maybe next time, I'll be able to come . . . with a guest."

"I hope so."

* * *

><p>"It is nasty out there!" Ikkaku bellowed as he burst in through the door. He took off his hanten and tossed it on the floor, then began stripping off the rest of his wet clothes, leaving a trail between the door and the hearth. "I need something dry."<p>

Yumichika was already getting him a robe. "I was getting worried. I've been hearing the wind pick up, and it's been raining since the sun went down. I thought you might have been washed down the mountain," he said lightly.

"Huh, I'm surprised I wasn't," Ikkaku replied. "What's for dinner?"

"Stew," Yumichika replied, handing over the robe and going to pick up Ikkaku's clothes off the floor.

"I hope there's lots of it. I'm starving."

An hour later, Ikkaku felt like he was bursting at the seams. "You outdid yourself," he said, walking over to lounge on the pillows before the hearth. "That was outstanding."

"I'm glad you liked it," Yumichika smiled as he cleaned up. When he'd finished, he poured two glasses of sake and joined Ikkaku in front of the fire.

"So, are you going to update your wardrobe now to include sack cloth?" Ikkaku teased.

"You really liked that look, huh?" Yumichika replied in kind.

"It had its . . . good points."

Yumichika rolled onto his elbow. "You really _did _like that horrible outfit, didn't you?"

"Maybe a little."

"Well, I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed, because there's no way I'd willingly wear something like that again," Yumichika informed him. "But I might be willing to make one for you, since you liked it so much."

Ikkaku harrumphed. "It wouldn't look good on me."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Yumichika replied. "It was very much your style."

"I thought you said I had no style."

"Oh, you have style. Bad style. You'd think, after all these years, some of my fashion sense would have rubbed off on you," Yumichika said.

"You'd think," Ikkaku shrugged.

Several minutes passed without either of them talking, but then Yumichika broached the subject that had been on his mind all day. "I wanted to tell you something," he said. "But I'm not sure how you'll react."

"Uh-oh. What did you do?" Ikkaku asked, giving him a sideways glance.

"I didn't do anything," Yumichika protested with his most endearing smile. "You're so suspicious."

"Uh-huh. What is it you want to tell me?" Ikkaku said, sounding like the suspicious man Yumichika had accused him of being.

"You remember I told you I saw Pakkay today in town," Yumichika began.

"Yeah … don't tell me my father really _was_ with him."

"No, he was alone," Yumichika assured him. "But he, uh, he told me something that I know isn't true. I just don't know why he'd say it."

"What is it?" Ikkaku was curious. Yumichika had his full attention now.

"He said . . . he said you and him are, uh, are . . . together," Yumichika stammered.

"Together?"

"Lovers."

Ikkaku was perfectly still for one instant, then he burst out laughing. "You're pulling my leg!"

"I'm serious!" Yumichika insisted, but he could not help smiling at Ikkaku's outburst.

"That's—that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" Ikkaku laughed. "Why—why would he tell you something like that?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. I mean, he had told me that he wanted you a while back, and I told him you weren't interested in that sort of thing. But he's been trying to convince me that you two are having a relationship," Yumichika explained.

"I've never even said a single word to him," Ikkaku said with an incredulous humor in his eye. "I mean, damn, even if I were looking for someone, he wouldn't even come close. Hey, is this why you were asking all those questions this morning?"

"Yes. He ran into me in Rudi's shop, and it was . . . well, it was a very uncomfortable situation. He walked in on me naked—"

"Naked? What the hell were you doing naked?"

"The rain? My new fashion style?" Yumichika reminded him.

"Oh. Yeah, right. Go on."

Yumichika cast him a mildly chastising glance. "Well, I was in the back waiting for Rudi to bring me something to wear, and Pakkay walked in. He made a . . . a crude remark—"

"What did he say?"

"I was getting ready to put a blanket around me, and he told me not to, that I, uh, that I made the room warmer."

Again, Ikkaku exploded into laughter. "And this guy told you he wants me? Sounds like he wants you!"

Yumichika drew in a sigh of relief. "I'm glad you're taking it this way. I thought you'd be mad."

"Mad? Why would I be mad? Here, some stupid farmhand is trying to figure out which one of us he wants to have sex with—"

"Ikkaku!" Yumichika scolded. "Don't be so disgusting!"

"And I'll bet he was telling you that he was messing around with me just to make you jealous," Ikkaku went on. "This is hilarious!"

"Yes, well—" Yumichika started to get up, but Ikkaku took hold of the back of his shift and pulled him back down.

"So, did it work?" he asked, rolling onto his side to face him.

"Did what work?" Yumichika asked, looking down at him with a wry expression.

"Did he make you jealous?"

"Of course not!" Yumichika cried indignantly. "I knew it was all a lie."

"And if it hadn't been?"

"But it was, and I knew it was."

Ikkaku's gaze was piercing. "Not even a little jealous?"

"I—I was more concerned than jealous," Yumichika stammered, an unexpected tingle going up his spine.

"Concerned? About me? You know you don't have to worry about me," Ikkaku said. He circled his fingers around Yumichika's wrist. "And, uh, just in case you _were_ jealous, you don't have to be."

Yumichika was stunned. This was the most tender, the most caring Ikkaku had ever been. He was doing it without reason, without impetus. And Yumichika felt drawn to him for it. All the years they had spent together since leaving Mito had centered around a friendship that had as its basis Ikkaku's dedication to Yumichika's protection and well-being. They had a shared a physical closeness that had never leaned towards intimacy, and both of them had been perfectly content with that arrangement. Now, the inflection in Ikkaku's voice, his choice of words, the provocative gleam in his eye – these things all seemed to be putting out a message. It was a message Yumichika had never felt from Ikkaku before. It was certainly a far cry from that dreadful day in Mito when Ikkaku had succumbed to the lust in his heart.

And even though Yumichika had never held any erotic attraction for his friend, he found himself strangely caught up in the possibility that something more might be in the making. He leaned down, without thought or decision. It was almost reflexive, but just as his lips were about to touch Ikkaku's, he stopped. He could bring himself no further.

It was fear. He knew it immediately. He was frightened and shocked at his action, and the harder he fought for the kiss, the more the fear grew.

Beneath him, Ikkaku held up his hand and pressed his palm against Yumichika's cheek, then delivered a slap with some little power behind it, a way of releasing Yumichika from what he was attempting.

"Yumichika, stop," he said gently. "You're not ready."

Yumichika dropped down beside him, a look of bewilderment on his face. "I don't know why I did that."

"Really? You really don't know?"

"Because I'm an idiot?"

Ikkaku reached his arm across Yumichika's waist and pulled him closer. "Your entire riatsu is designed to physically attract people. And you like physical contact. That's what you wanted."

"But I get plenty of physical contact—"

"Not like that." Ikkaku paused. "You try too hard."

"It's been twenty years. I don't think I'm trying too hard. I haven't been trying at all. I haven't wanted to. Until just now." He paused. "And I'm not even sure what I was hoping for." He could not tell Ikkaku that he'd had almost more physical contact than he could endure since the embodiment of Ruri'iro Kujaku. And that such contact had been incredibly intimate and intense. And he certainly could not tell him that his soul was anything but physical – that it was kido-based, kido-infused. It was everything Ikkaku despised in a person. It was only natural that Ikkaku would want to view Yumichika as possessing the qualities he deemed most important – and physical ability, especially combat, topped that list.

"Don't think it about so much. It was just something that happened. Almost." The humor in Ikkaku's voice put Yumichika more at ease.

"I guess you're right." He settled into the crook of Ikkaku's shoulder. After several seconds, he worked up the courage to ask, "Did you want me to kiss you?"

"No," Ikkaku replied honestly. "That wasn't even on my mind."

"But . . . would you have been angry if I had?"

"I'd have been surprised."

"Yeah . . . me, too."

Ikkaku always knew when Yumichika's mind was working too much, when an event was stuck in his craw and gnawing away at his peace of mind. He also knew that the best course of action at such times was to redirect Yumichika's attention. A wicked grin crossed his face. "But enough about you. Tell me more about my pretend lover."

"You _are_ disgusting!"


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20 Moving Pieces

"_Just look into my eyes,  
><em>_Cause you know I'll tell you  
><em>_No more lies."_

_No More Lies  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p>Ikkaku woke up to the sound of the fire crackling and popping its final moments of life. Other than that, all was silent. There was not even the sound of birds in the trees or rain against the shutters.<p>

He'd fallen asleep on the floor among the pillows and blankets; and before even opening his eyes, he felt Yumichika lying beside him, pressed closed and breathing the slow, even rhythm of someone still in deep slumber.

Ikkaku opened his eyes. Daylight filtered in through the slats in the window. He could hardly believe that Yumichika had slept past the break of day. But of greater interest to him was the fact that he and Yumichika had fallen asleep side-by-side, very nearly in an embrace.

They were both clothed. Nothing had happened, but that did not change the fact that Yumichika had tried to kiss him. Not that Ikkaku was bothered by it, for he wasn't. True, he hadn't expected it, but he would not have been disappointed if Yumichika had been able to follow through. After all, Ikkaku knew he had teased and lured Yumichika into it. His goal had been to eke out an admission of jealousy, and instead he'd almost been the recipient of a kiss. Ikkaku found a certain humor in it.

Even with Yumichika's failure, Ikkaku felt a new sense of nearness, a movement towards something beyond what they had shared over the past twenty years. He could not identify this nascent phase, but he knew that he felt good about it. Where it had come from, he had no idea. It hadn't been the work of Yumichika's seductive power. Ikkaku didn't want him in that way. No, this was something else. It was more than fondness, more than affection.

It was a remarkable situation for Ikkaku, and it made him laugh quietly to himself to think that the actions of a crude farmhand had managed to spark inside him what years of close proximity to Yumichika had not: the willingness, the impetus for him to finally lower his guard. Could it be that, at last, he was ready to let someone else in?

Whatever the ploy behind Pakkay's game, Yumichika had not been jealous. Of course not. He'd not even felt threatened. It was Ikkaku who, despite his laughter and joking, had felt that twinge of possessiveness the very moment Yumichika had told him about Pakkay walking in on him naked. The need to protect had immediately sprung up in Ikkaku's consciousness. But bubbling underneath had been a brewing sensation, the idea that Yumichika belonged to only one person – if _belonging_ was even an appropriate word, for Yumichika would not be treated as chattel.

The jovial conversation of the previous evening had ended, inevitably, with a stern warning from Ikkaku that, no matter how humorous the whole idea might be, it still had the imprint of Ikkaku's father all over it; and therefore, Yumichika was to stay away from Pakkay.

What Ikkaku had not told Yumichika was that he would deal with the farmhand himself. He would permit no one to play Yumichika, especially someone who had connections with his father.

He carefully slid out from under Yumichika's head resting atop his arm and walked over to stoke the fire. The air was uncharacteristically frigid, which made Ikkaku decide to take a look outside. He peeked through the corner of one of the windows that looked out onto the meadow only to discover that winter had come early.

The silence that filled that morning was the silence of the first snowfall. The rain had turned into snow overnight, and at least fifty centimeters already covered the ground. The snow was still falling in large, puffy flakes, straight down like a waterfall with no wind to disturb it.

It was beautiful. Yumichika would be very happy.

For Ikkaku, it meant waiting. But he could manage that.

After all, this wasn't simply about protecting Yumichika anymore. No, he could do that without ever speaking a word to Pakkay.

No, this was about having a little fun and maybe just beating his father at his own game.

* * *

><p>His wait turned out to be longer than anticipated.<p>

Winter showed itself immediately to be the true and only master of the mountains and the valleys. From that first November snowfall, the area was blanketed clear through the middle of April. There were periods of two or three weeks when passage down the mountain was impossible, but Yumichika, ever vigilant, kept the cottage well-stocked.

Of course, it wasn't the threat of starvation that made the winter months trying – mainly because there was no threat of starvation with Yumichika around. But rather, it was the boredom that wore on Ikkaku's nerves. Hours and days with nothing to do and nowhere to go. Yumichika would put him to work, but Ikkaku hated being closed in; and whenever there was the slightest opening to make it down the mountain, Ikkaku took it.

It was under conditions such as these that Yumichika wished he could show Ikkaku all that he had learned from Ruri'iro Kujaku. While Ikkaku slogged away up and down the mountain, Yumichika could make the same trip in a matter of minutes, regardless of the amount of snow on the ground. But he had no opportunity to do so. He had to keep the ability hidden, and therefore when Ikkaku slogged, Yumichika slogged.

Then, at last, in the beginning of April, the temperatures began to rise and the snow began to melt. The rivers swelled. The shutters in the village opened. People came out into the streets again. Life was returning.

Ikkaku had been able to make it down for work for the last two weeks of March, but the going had been cold and unpleasant. Now, it was still unpleasant with mud and melt rivulets carving paths into the mountainside, but it was warmer and brighter. By the time mid-April had rolled around, he was able to make it to the mill every day.

The last five months had passed as if the aborted kiss had never taken place. Yumichika did not attempt it again, nor did he show any inclination towards anything more. Ikkaku, for his own part, was satisfied with the way things were; but he could not deny that some small part of him secretly hoped that Yumichika would try again – and this time, be successful.

Still, such a desire played only a minor role in the ordering of Ikkaku's priorities. He had not forgotten his plan, and he looked for every opportunity to put it into effect. He'd seen Pakkay several times during the winter months. The hand had come into the mill to pick up various ground product, but Ikkaku had not been able to say anything to him other than that of a strictly business nature, for there had always been someone else around.

But the third week in April, he got his chance.

It was Saturday. Market day. He and Yumichika had come down the mountain on a pleasant morning. It had rained all night, leaving the road still mired in mud, but the grass verges were passable. Recalling that he had some business with Hullaker, the peat farmer, Ikkaku took the split up into the valley while Yumichika continued on to the village.

Ikkaku had grown to hate going up this stretch of the valley, for his father's farm was on the way; and the idea they might cross paths was always at the edge of his thoughts. But today, he was hopeful.

He passed several of Hullaker's peat cutters and exchanged greetings, even engaging in some small talk about the weather before he continued on to the homestead. Here, he conducted his business, which was to look over some swords, for Hullaker was not only a peat farmer, but a metalsmith, as well. His work was exquisite; and he never sold in market, preferring to deal by special arrangement.

Ikkaku was impressed with his selection. He was actually not looking for himself, but rather for Yumichika. He could not explain it, but there was something about Yumichika's sword that he simply did not like. It was an undeniably beautiful weapon, and maybe that was the problem. Swords weren't supposed to be beautiful. They were supposed to lethal and frightening to behold. That thing Yumichika was carrying around looked like it belonged in a showcase somewhere. Ikkaku could not even imagine it dripping with an enemy's blood.

No, Yumichika needed something else. Of course, Ikkaku had not informed Yumichika of his intentions. He planned to just show up one day and present the sword to Yumichika with the hope that Yumichika would fall in love with it and toss the current one into the river.

As a preliminary visit, Ikkaku stayed only thirty minutes. When he left, he was sure he would be able to find something suitable for Yumichika.

Heading back along the valley road towards the village, he caught his breath at his good fortune, for up ahead of him, entering the road on foot and alone was Pakkay.

Ikkaku beamed a smile. He could not have asked for a better situation. He trotted along until he was close enough that Pakkay felt his footsteps. When the farmhand turned and saw who it was, he stopped and waited for him to catch up.

"Madarame-san," he said genially. "What are you doing in the valley?"

"Visiting Hullaker," Ikkaku replied, equally engaging. "I'm looking for a new sword for Yumichika."

"Really? Ayasegawa carries a sword?" Pakkay appeared surprised.

"Not all of the time, but he does have one," Ikkaku replied, "And he's pretty good with it. I just think he needs something a little more . . . threatening."

Pakkay chuckled. "But Ayasegawa's not threatening. He's gentle as a dove."

"Huh, you'd think so," Ikkaku said, shaking his head. "Believe me, he's a lot tougher than he looks."

They walked on a bit further.

"I'm kind of surprised you're talking to me," Pakkay said. "I know how things are between you and your father. I figured you'd hate me by association."

"Yeah, well, normally, I wouldn't be talking to you, but I heard something that really sparked my attention." Ikkaku was still grinning. "I heard you and I are, uh . . . getting it on."

Pakkay looked at him with a puzzled expression, which Ikkaku didn't buy for an instant.

"Getting it on?"

"Doing it." Ikkaku offered, then with a pondering glance skyward, "I believe the term I heard was rolling, turning the hay – something like that."

Pakkay continued to regard him with contrived bewilderment. "What are you talking about?"

"I hear you've been going around telling people that you and I are an item," Ikkaku replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You mean, having sex?"

Ikkaku smirked. "Wow, that's blunt. But, yes."

"Where did you hear that?" Pakkay did not appear disturbed at all by the topic.

A smart grin curled Ikkaku's lips. "Oh, from the prettiest little bird you could ever imagine."

"Ayasegawa?" Pakkay supposed.

"Huh, how 'bout that? You guessed right on the first try. That's because you _did_ tell him those things, didn't you?" Ikkaku said.

Pakkay chuckled and shook his head. "I don't know why he would say something like that. He sure likes to play games, doesn't he?"

"Oh, there's a game being played, alright; but I don't think Yumichika's the one playing it," Ikkaku stated. He settled comfortably into the role of inquisitor. "So, why don't you tell me why you lied to him? Why did you want him to think you and I were involved?"

"Madarame-san," Pakkay began, his voice only slightly condescending. "I never told him that. I've never even considered it." He reached up over his head in a powerful stretch that appeared to Ikkaku to be a strange challenge of sorts, a display of his strength and self-assurance. "To be honest, well . . . you're not really my type." A pause. "You remind me too much of my boss."

Ikkaku overlooked the jab and remained cool. "Yumichika wouldn't lie to me – especially about something like this. So, why did you tell him those things? Did my father put you up to it?"

"Madarame-sama didn't do anything. Like I told you, I never said anything like that to Ayasegawa-san. I'm not even interested in you in that way," Pakkay insisted.

"Maybe you're interested in Yumichika," Ikkaku suggested.

"Who wouldn't be?" Pakkay replied with a bawdy inflection. "Have you looked at him?"

"So, you _are_ really after him," Ikkaku pressed.

"No, I'm not after him," Pakkay answered, "I wouldn't kick him out if I found him in my bed, but he's a bit too fragile and delicate for my tastes."

"You know, you're very convincing, but I'm not falling for it," Ikkaku said in a low voice. "You're up to something. You come across as a stupid farmhand, but there's something devious about you."

Pakkay grinned. "I don't know what you expect me to say. I never said anything to Ayasegawa about you and me being lovers. I don't know why he'd want to cause trouble by lying like that." He paused. "Unless he's trying to get me in trouble with Madarame-sama."

Ikkaku narrowed his eyes. "Why would he want to do that?"

Pakkay was flippant. "Because I see things that I'm not supposed to."

"Like what?"

"Things you wouldn't want to hear," Pakkay replied in a snide voice.

"You're so full of shit," Ikkaku snorted. "I think the one you're really after is Yumichika, and you tried to make him jealous by pretending you and I were going at it. Man, you are stupid. You don't know Yumichika at all."

"I think you're the one who doesn't know him," Pakkay replied in a thick, grim voice that Ikkaku could not pass off as mere effect. "All the time you two have been together, and you still don't know what he's all about."

Ikkaku took a threatening step forward. "What is that supposed to mean?"

But Pakkay was not intimidated. "He's got you wrapped around his finger, and you're so blind that you can't even see what's going on right in front of you."

"Then tell me what it is I should be seeing," Ikkaku challenged.

"Don't you ever wonder what Ayasegawa does while you're working in the mill all day?" Pakkay asked, his manner confident and derisive. "I'll bet I see more of him than you do."

"Meaning?" Ikkaku was rapidly losing his sense of humor. This was not how things were supposed to go.

"That's too easy," Pakkay replied. "And you wouldn't believe me anyway. You have to see it for yourself."

There was something insidious in his words. They twisted over and over again inside Ikkaku's mind. Memories of Mito broke in on his thoughts.

No. No, it was absolutely impossible. Those days were long gone. Yumichika would never go back to such activities.

"I'm done playing games with you," Ikkaku glowered. "Tell me what you're getting at, or we're going to have a major disagreement right here and now."

"I'm not playing," Pakkay replied, straightening up to his full height. "If you want to fight me, I'm looking forward to it. But you're at an advantage. I have no weapon."

"I don't need my sword to whip your ass," Ikkaku said, removing the weapon and tossing it into the grass. "I can handle you with my bare hands. But first, I'm going to give you one more chance to come out with it."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'd rather fight you." Pakkay raised an eyebrow. "I think it will even feel pretty good."

Ikkaku spat on the ground. Twenty years without a fight was about to come to an end.

* * *

><p>Yumichika was still at the market, mulling over the fish monger's offerings when he heard a voice at his ear. Turning, he found himself looking at Hullaker's oldest son, Thimon. The young man looked anxious and excited, his cheeks flushed red, his breathing heavy.<p>

"Thimon, what's wrong?" Yumichika asked.

"Madarame-san got into a fight!" Thimon burst out, certainly but not purposefully loud enough for those nearby to hear.

"A fight? Ikkaku?" Yumichika could not believe his ears.

Thimon nodded. "Come on!"

Yumichika followed him out of the village on the northern road. "Who did he get into a fight with?"

"One of his father's farmhands!" Thimon replied. "I saw the whole thing!"

_"Oh no. Ikkaku, what have you done?"_ Yumichika fretted silently.

As they approached the crossroads with the mountain track, Yumichika could see a small knot of people gathered on the roadside.

He could feel Ikkaku's riatsu, strong and distinct as always, so he knew there had been no serious injuries. But physical damage was not the only type of harm that concerned him. There were other considerations at hand, and those were what had him worried.

He saw Hullaker and two of his peat workers standing with Ikkaku. When they noticed Yumichika's approach, one of the workers announced, "Here's Ayasegawa-san."

Yumichika saw Ikkaku's reaction of rolling eyes and a heavy sigh. It was of little matter. Yumichika was not going to be deterred.

Ikkaku's opponent was not there, but Yumichika could see in the distance, three figures heading up the valley.

"What happened?" he asked, standing in front of Ikkaku and making a quick appraisal. Ikkaku's clothes were covered with mud and grass stains, but other than a scrape over one eye and a swollen lower lip, there was no visible damage.

"Nothing for you to be worried about," Ikkaku replied curtly.

Yumichika turned to Hullaker. "Thank you for staying with him. I think I can handle it from here." Then to Thimon, "Thank you for getting me."

The other men took that as the invitation to leave, and they did so without complaint.

"A man would have to be a pretty big fool to pick a fight with you, Ikkaku-san," Hullaker grinned before leaving.

"He was a _very_ big fool," Ikkaku remarked.

Yumichika waited until the other men were out of earshot, then he eyed Ikkaku expectantly. "What was this all about?"

"What, no sympathy?"

"I can see you're fine and don't need any sympathy," Yumichika replied. "But you might need some when I'm finished with you. What on earth happened?"

"I just had a little altercation," Ikkaku shrugged. He got to his feet and started walking towards the mountains.

"With?"

"Pakkay."

"Oh, Ikkaku!" Yumichika blurted out his frustration.

"What are you so bent of out of shape for?" Ikkaku asked. "You didn't like him either." A pause. "Aren't you even going to ask if I won?"

"From looking at you, I think I can see that you won, but I don't care about that," Yumichika said. "Of all people, why did you pick a fight with him? Why did you pick a fight at all?"

Ikkaku stopped walking and turned to face him with a hard glare. "Why are you so sure I picked the fight?"

"Because of your history," Yumichika replied.

"I haven't had a single fight since we came here. Not one," Ikkaku reminded him vehemently. "The past is the past, and maybe I've changed." He was amazed at his indignation over Yumichika's correct assessment of the situation.

"Then just tell me: who started this fight?" Yumichika pressed.

"It was mutual. That Pakkay is a sneaky little bastard—"

"Who threw the first punch?" Yumichika demanded, not interested in Ikkaku's opinion of Pakkay's character.

Ikkaku was silent, his jaw working, his eyes darkening.

"Ikkaku? Who threw the first punch?" Yumichika asked again.

"I did."

"Ohh!" Yumichika threw his hands up. "I knew it! I just knew it! Why did you do that? How could you

be so . . . oh, I can't believe this!"

"What! Big deal. I had a fight. Neither of us took much of a beating. He was pretty strong, so we had an even match—"

"This isn't about who won or who's stronger! It's about the fact that—that you're—you're ruining any chance you have of reconciling with your father!" Yumichika said with warmth.

Ikkaku hesitated. It struck him suddenly that what Pakkay might have been referring to with his veiled allusions to Yumichika's activities were Yumichika's attempts at bringing about healing to a wounded relationship. And that would mean . . .

"Yumichika . . . have you been talking to my father?"

Now, it was Yumichika's turn to falter. "Sometimes."

"I told you not to." Ikkaku's manner was grave.

"I just want to see you two put all this enmity aside! It's like you said, the past is the past. You should let go of whatever your father did—"

"What are you doing to try and win him over?" Ikkaku asked bluntly.

"What am I . . . what do you mean?" Yumichika's eyes grew wide in disbelief. "You—you think I'm using my abilities to try and seduce him?"

"Pakkay tried to tell me that you were doing something right under my nose, but he wouldn't say what it was," Ikkaku stated. "Given _your_ history, I was afraid—"

"Given _my_ history?" Yumichika interrupted.

Ikkaku did not respond immediately. He was stunned to see that Yumichika was actually shaking. He could feel the anger and grief radiating in his riatsu.

"Look, I just meant—"

"Don't tell me what you meant," Yumichika cut him off again. "I know what you meant. _Given my history_, you—you think getting beaten and—and raped and burned and tortured—you think that wasn't enough to teach me my lesson."

Ikkaku didn't know what to say. How had the conversation suddenly turned to this?

"I wanted to make things right with your father," Yumichika went on, and there was something barely contained in his voice. "And you—you think I'm the same whore I was back in Mito. You—you remember what happened back in November. I couldn't even bring myself to kiss you. How could you think I'm having sex with other men again? It's been twenty years."

"No, no, Yumichika. That's not what I said," he protested. "I said I wanted you to stay away from my father, because he's dangerous. You didn't listen. You listen more to that idiot Pakkay than you do to me. You let him make you think that he and I were lovers—"

"I never believed him," Yumichika interjected.

"So what? It bothered you enough that you felt you needed to tell me about it—"

"I told you because I was afraid he was trying to cause trouble, and I didn't want anything to get in the way of—"

"Of me getting all chummy with my father," Ikkaku finished the sentence. "And like usual, you think that by turning on a bit of your charm, you can win over anyone and get them to do whatever you want."

"Stop trying to blame this on me!" Yumichika said accusatively. "You're the one who got into a fight with one of your father's workers! I—I don't even know what the fight was about, and here you are blaming it on me! And—and don't accuse me of listening to Pakkay when you're standing here now accusing me of going back to what I used to be because of something _he_ told _you_! At least I didn't believe the things he told me! You believe the things he's telling you!"

"I'm not blaming you for anything!" Ikkaku shouted. "You accused me of throwing the first punch, and then you wouldn't even let me explain!"

"Then explain it now. Why were you even talking to him?"

"I wanted to use him to get back at my father. I wasn't planning to get into a fight with him. I was going to—I was going to . . . " Ikkaku fumbled for words.

"Going to what?" Yumichika's attitude of moral superiority was enough to make Ikkaku spit out the words he'd been loathe to say.

"I was going to have a little fun—"

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" Yumichika burst out. "So, now _you're_ willing to screw and be screwed by some flea-infested farmhand just to get back at your father?"

"Watch your choice of words, Yumichika," Ikkaku warned. "That's not what I said."

Yumichika rubbed his hands over his face. "Just tell me why you hit him."

"Because he said you were doing something behind my back," Ikkaku replied.

Yumichika held his tongue for a moment. He had to proceed carefully here. He _was_ doing something behind Ikkaku's back, and he was not ready or willing to divulge the subtle inroads he'd been attempting to make with Ikkaku's father.

"And you assumed I was using my seductive abilities on your father?" he asked.

"Well, you admitted that you've talked to him all this time when I told you not to." He hesitated. "And . . . you've hidden things from me before." He looked Yumichika dead in the eye. "Are you hiding something now?"

It was the perfect opportunity to come clean. The ideal opening to fess up to his clandestine visits with Totui Madarame.

"No."

"But you _admitted_ you've been talking to my father. You kept that from me," Ikkaku persisted.

"That was my mistake. I should have told you—"

"No, you should have listened to me and not spoken to him at all." He took Yumichika by the shoulders. "Give me your word now that you won't go near him again."

"But I—"

"Give me your word."

"Ikkaku, I can't. And I can't believe you'd be willing to . . . to mess around with Pakkay just to make some point with your father. Your father doesn't care about Pakkay. He won't care if you're involved with him or not. It's just stupid, Ikkaku. How is that going to get you the revenge you seem to want? And you should know better than to want revenge at all."

Ikkaku stared long and hard at him, unsure of how to react. He knew Yumichika only had his best interests at heart. Yumichika couldn't know that the hatred he was trying to erase was insurmountable. But the risks were too great to let him continue on in his innocent desire to see father and son reunited.

"Fine." He released Yumichika and began walking up the mountain.

"Ikkaku, I—"

"There's no sense in discussing it, Yumichika," Ikkaku cut him off with finality in his voice. "You've made up your mind. Now, I need to make up mine."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21 Maiweg's Orchard

_"Did you ever wake up in the morning  
><em>_to find that nothing was the same?  
><em>_And the only thing that really matters  
><em>_is the pleasure and the pain?"_

_The Lights are Low  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p><em>"You've made up your mind. Now, I need to make up mine."<em>

Yumichika had no idea what those words meant, and his own lack of courage prevented him from asking over the course of the next several days.

What decisions was Ikkaku pondering? What actions might he take? He was not discussing any of it with Yumichika, and this was worrisome; for while Yumichika was confident that Ikkaku would never leave him, he did harbor the fear that Ikkaku might want them both to pick up and leave Venla altogether, anything to be away from his father.

It was vexing and frustrating – a hatred Yumichika could not understand or tolerate. In his own life in the world of the living, his father had loved and doted on him with all the devotion of a gander guarding his brood. What the surrounding society had seen as grotesque, burdensome and unfit to live, his father had cherished, protected, and guided in paths deemed insignificant and unimportant in the world into which he had been born. The ability to recognize bird song or identify the various types of tree or flower, the keen eye and steady hand to frame and paint a beautiful image, the skill to plant and harvest, the cultivation of a gentle, unthreatening touch that allowed him to approach wild creatures with ease . . . these had all been great gifts of an adoring father.

And Yumichika was convinced that, while Totui Madarame probably did not possess the same gifts, he surely had gifts of his own to impart – and Ikkaku should be the recipient.

It simply was not right that father and son should be at such antipathy, especially when the hatred seemed to be all on one side: Ikkaku's. Totui seemed more than ready to make amends. And Yumichika was not about to give up on Ikkaku's stubborn refusal to see reason.

They had both carefully avoided the subject for the first part of the week. And on Wednesday, when they headed down the mountain together – Ikkaku to go to work and Yumichika to turn over some of his handiwork for sale in the finery shop – they did not talk about anything more controversial than how many blocks of beeswax Yumichika should pick up from the apiary.

They parted company at the mill, and Yumichika continued on into the village. The finery shop was on the main road on the opposite side of the village square. Yumichika's business there was quickly handled. He had a number of items to put up for sale, from clothing to bed linens to table dressings. The winter months had been a very productive time.

As he turned over his goods, he withheld two obi's. They were already earmarked for other recipients.

From there, he headed to the apiary which was just beyond the outskirts of the village, lying out by itself on a small man-made berm on the broad flood plain. Here, he procured the wax for candles – two more blocks than what he and Ikkaku had agreed upon. Rather than going back through the village to return to the mountain path, he chose the wagon road that ran along the edge of the fields and orchards at the foot of the mountains. It was a longer way, but the morning was exceptionally pleasant with the fragrance of daimsol floating down from the fells.

Yumichika passed by the Maiweg orchard where the cherry trees were just beginning to sprout buds and the apple trees still looked skeletal and forlorn. He continued on, coming to the Maiweg farmhouse, where Mrs Maiweg was hanging out laundry to dry. She did not see Yumichika, and Yumichika did not approach her. She loved to talk, and any conversation was guaranteed to last at least an hour. Yumichika was too engrossed in his own thoughts to desire any interaction. As he passed the last of the farm outbuildings, he breathed a sigh of relief at having passed through unnoticed.

A couple kilometers of lovely walking country lay ahead of him now. And although he was surrounded by some of the greatest natural beauty he'd ever seen, his mind was engaged in something definitively not beautiful.

"_The problem's not Totui. The problem's Ikkaku. He's the one who refuses to forgive his father. He's the one who won't even try to make things right. And sooner or later, Totui may get so angry that he doesn't care either. What am I going to do? I can't let them go on like this. And now, Ikkaku's beaten up Pakkay . . . how could he have been so stupid?"_

He turned the same thoughts over and over again, but he could see no clear path forward. All he could do was to try and keep Totui from giving up hope and convince Ikkaku that it was time to let go of his grudge. As for Pakkay, he wasn't sure what to do about that situation. The man's incessant lying was what had led to the current situation; but then again, if Yumichika had simply kept those lies to himself, Ikkaku never would have found out about them and would never have confronted the farmhand. Yumichika hated anything that disrupted the peace, and so he was willing to overlook both men's foolishness and try to make amends.

He was coming to the stone fence between one part of the orchard and another, where grape vines were planted, when he heard the rumble of thunder. A glance over his shoulder showed the leading edge of black storm clouds creeping over the mountaintops. He figured he had at least five minutes before the rain came, and this time he would not be caught out in it. Up ahead a couple hundred meters was an orchard storage shed. The entire landscape was dotted with them.

Yumichika hurried his pace, coming to the wooden structure just as the wind began sweeping down off the mountain. Stepping inside, he was surprised to find that it was not simply an empty shed waiting to be filled with harvest. There was a crude wooden bed piled with straw and an old, moth-eaten blanket against one wall. In the far left corner, beneath a small opening in the roof, was a ring of stones and the charred remains of a cooking fire. Beside it lay a stained cast iron pan and a spit, a copper cup and a tin plate.

Was someone living here?

Yumichika got his answer in the next moment.

A fierce crack of thunder sounded directly overhead, releasing a torrent of rain. The wind was so violent, Yumichika feared it would bring the shed down on his head. He went to the door to look outside just as the shed's occupant came flying in out of the weather, plowing into him and sending them both crashing to the dirt floor.

"Aya-ayasegawa-san?"

Yumichika looked up as the man got to his hands and knees.

"Pakkay?"

The farmhand, dripping wet, got to his feet, but he did not offer to help Yumichika get up. Instead, he looked at him with a guarded expression. "What are you doing out here?"

Yumichika sat up and brushed off his kimono. "I was heading back to the cottage."

"Through the orchards?" Pakkay asked, his voice containing a cool skepticism.

"I was at the apiary, and I felt like taking the long way back," Yumichika replied, getting to his feet. "When I saw the storm clouds, I came in here to take cover." He paused. "What are you doing out here?"

Pakkay's face was impassive. "This is where I live now."

Yumichika blanched. "Where you live?"

Pakkay turned away and began working on a starting a fire. "Yeah. Congratulations. You got what you wanted."

Yumichika swallowed down his confusion. "What do you mean? What—what happened?"

"You wanted me to get fired. I was fired."

"I—I didn't want you to get fired," Yumichika stammered. "I never wanted that. All I wanted was for Ikkaku and—"

"—and his father to get back together. Yeah, you told me." Pakkay fanned the small flame he'd started then straightened up and gave a brief glance at Yumichika. "You're a liar."

"But—but what happened? Why did Totui fire you?" Yumichika asked, his voice incredulous.

"Why?" Pakkay stripped off his wet kosode, revealing muscular shoulders and a thick, powerful torso. "Because I got into a fight with his son." A pause. "All thanks to you. You had to go and tell Ikkaku what I'd said."

Yumichika was obstinate. "Of course, I had to tell him. You were lying to me. You were trying to make me think you and Ikkaku were involved with one another. He needed to know what you were trying to do."

"And why do you think I would do that? What reason could I possibly have for lying to you about something like that?" Pakkay challenged.

"I don't know," Yumichika replied honestly. "Maybe you wanted me to be jealous."

"Maybe I was telling you the truth. Maybe it's Ikkaku who's lying to you," Pakkay replied. "Don't you wonder how we ending up getting in that fight?"

"Ikkaku told me it was because of something you said about me—"

"He was mad because I'd told you about us. He wanted to keep it hidden from you." He paused and sat down heavily on the bed. "Do you think Madarame-sama would have fired me just for getting in a fight? He fired me because he found out what the fight was about. I had to tell him the truth, that I'd been having sex with his son. And then . . . he told me you'd already talked to him about it."

Yumichika was baffled. He refused to even entertain the idea that Ikkaku was lying to him, although when he looked at Pakkay, flushed from his run in the rain, half-naked and overflowing with masculine allure, he could see how someone like Ikkaku might find him attractive.

But that was absurd. Absurd and impossible. Yumichika knew better.

"I'm sorry you got fired," he said. "Even though I still think you're lying, I never wanted you to get in trouble with Totui. I guess part of this is my fault. I probably should have kept my mouth shut and not said anything to Ikkaku." He reached into his bag and drew out one of the obi's he'd set aside. "I was going to give this to you and another one to Totui as a way to say I'm sorry for the fight. But I guess now, it's to say I'm sorry for you getting fired."

Totui reached out and took the obi. He turned it over in his large hands. "It's nice." He stood up and with quiet quickness, looped the obi once around Yumichika's wrists and pulled him close. "So, what else comes with this apology?"

Yumichika jerked back instantly. Around him, the shed walls became the walls of the hutch on the Ulandsee. The straw bed melted into the sleeping roll upon which he had so many times turned over his body to anyone who wanted it. And Hinsamoi stood looking down at him with the gleam of anticipation in his eye. _"Put your wrists together."_

"What's wrong? Come on, you don't think I'm buying that you just showed up here by accident. Or that you wanted to give me some little trinket gift?"

Pakkay's voice jolted him back to the present.

"Let's see how repentant you really are," the farmhand leered.

Without a word, Yumichika turned and fled.

Behind him, Pakkay watched from the doorway but he didn't go after him. The sound of his laughter was lost in the rain and the wind and the thunder. While it certainly might have been a moment of ecstasy to have basted the little bird, he was finding much greater pleasure in the torment. The only question that remained was how much longer he could draw it out. Something was going to give soon.

* * *

><p>The storm raged around him. He could barely see where he was going through the driving rain, and he was so panicked that he had no idea where he should be headed. He only knew what he was running from. His thoughts were spinning wildly in his head. He tried once, then again, to use the speed move, but his concentration was so scattered that he could not manage it and ended up, the first time on his knees less than twenty meters from where he had started, and the second time, face-down in the middle of a freshly plowed field, now little more than a sea of mud.<p>

He struggled to his feet and stumbled several meters, slipping and falling time and again, not even sure which direction he was heading. Finally, he dropped to his knees in exhaustion. Much to his own self-reproach, he found tears mixing with the rain against his face. He wrapped his arms around his shaking body and turned inward.

"I need you . . . Ruri'iro Kujaku."

The cavern materialized around him. He heard Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice at his ear.

"Kimi? What's happened?"

For the first time in a long while, Yumichika regretted having shut his zanpakuto out.

"I need your help," he answered, too ashamed to even look Ruri'iro Kujaku in the eye.

"Kimi, tell me what's happened," Ruri'iro persisted.

"You were right . . . you were right about him," Yumichika stammered.

"Who?" The reikon slid around in front of him and took hold of his shoulders. "Master, look at me! What's happened?"

"Pakkay . . . "

"What did he do?" Ruri'iro asked. "I couldn't see or hear anything."

"He wanted to—to have—" Yumichika shook his head and began sobbing again.

Ruri'iro Kujaku gripped him tighter. "Kimi, open your eyes long enough for me to see where you are."

In the outer world, Yumichika opened his eyes.

Ruri'iro was stunned. What was his master doing hunkering in the mud in the middle of a thunderstorm? The story of what had happened could wait. The important thing was to get Yumichika to safety.

"Master, you have to pull yourself together," he ordered.

Yumichika said nothing.

"Kimi, I can't help you. You didn't bring me with you," Ruri'iro pressed. "You're going to have to do this yourself."

When Yumichika did not respond, the peacock grew more insistent. "You can't stay out here in the middle of a lightning storm. Now, collect your wits and get on your feet!"

Still, Yumichika did not move.

Back in the inner world, Ruri'iro took his master's face in his hands. "You have to get up, Yumichika. You can't stay where you are. It's too dangerous, and you're going to get sick. Now, stop acting like a woman and get on your feet."

Yumichika raised his eyes and looked at him. He had not seen the swirling colors of his zanpakuto's eyes in weeks. That was how long it had been since he had been to his inner world. Their appearance now gave him courage and comfort, despite Ruri'iro's biting words.

He got to his feet and began walking, but the going was so difficult, he found himself, once again, going down every few steps.

"Use the speed movement," Ruri'iro ordered him.

"I don't have the strength," Yumichika replied.

"Yes, you do. You can go short distances at a time. Concentrate."

Yumichika focused his energy. In three moves, he had made it as far as the bottom of the mountain path. From here, he dared not try the move any more, for he felt too weak to control it, and he knew he could easily end up running into a tree or off one of the cliffs.

With Ruri'iro Kujaku encouraging and bullying him every step of the way, he plodded up the mountain, still fighting against the rain and the wind. At last, he came to the cottage. He made it through the door before collapsing in delirium. He felt strong arms reach around him and help him over to the hearth. He opened his eyes just in time to see Ruri'iro Kujaku wave a hand that ignited a fire.

Ruri'iro sat him down among the pillows and placed a hand on his forehead.

"Th-thank you for forcing me to k-keep going," Yumichika said in a strained and rattling voice, his eyes already closed. "You can g-go back n-now."

"That's not happening," Ruri'iro replied. "You're not well. You need someone to look after you."

"I'm okay now—"

"No, you're not. Come on, you need to get out of these wet clothes." Ruri'iro began undressing him.

"Y-you don't h-have to—"

"Stop. Just shut up." Ruri'iro cut him off. "Listen to you, you can barely speak. Now, lie quietly and once I get you out of these things, I'll heal you and restore your energy."

Yumichika did as he was told. He was too exhausted and too flustered to argue. And the truth was that Ruri'iro Kujaku's touch, his mere presence, was putting his mind at ease and taking the edge off what had happened.

At length, he found himself lolling in the warmth of a down blanket and a blazing fire. Ruri'iro Kujaku sat beside him, one hand beneath the blanket, running lightly over his chest.

"There is much fever in your body," Ruri'iro stated. "I can feel it in your lungs."

"It's starting to feel better," Yumichika said, and he still sounded weak.

"I don't know why sickness is harder to heal than injury," Ruri'iro stated. "But you'll be back to normal in an hour."

Thirty minutes later, Ruri'iro felt Yumichika was recovered enough to answer some questions. "So, tell me what happened."

"I was walking home, and I got caught in the rain," Yumichika explained. "I ducked into a shed, and Pakkay came in after me. He was living there—" He stopped abruptly. "Ikkaku's coming."

"Yes, he is," Ruri'iro Kujaku agreed, not stopping his activity. "Good, he can make himself useful and help me take care of you."

"Kimi—"

The tone of Yumichika's voice told the reikon all he needed to know.

"No. You can't ask me to go back. I won't do it," he refused. "I came when you needed me. You can't send me back now. It's time he knew about me."

"Ruri'iro Kujaku . . . soon. I promise. Soon. But not right now. I—"

"I haven't finished healing you," Ruri'iro pointed out. "And you haven't told me what happened."

Yumichika took hold of Ruri'iro's hand beneath the blanket and drew it out on top. "I'll come to you tonight. Trust me. I will. Please . . . go. Hurry. He'll be here any second."

Ruri'iro was looking at him through the mosaic of his eyes, and the sentiment was clear. Words were not necessary for Yumichika to know that he had gone perhaps too far this time, calling on his zanpakuto in desperation and then shunting him back into the secrecy of his inner world once the need had passed and Ikkaku was drawing near. This was an offense that would take a good deal of attention and fawning to undo. But Yumichika would do it, for he knew that this time he was in the wrong.

"Kimi, I give you my word, I will come to you tonight," he repeated. "Please go."

Ruri'iro Kujaku was intrinsically aware that a zanpakuto should be obedient to his master. He also was proud of the fact that he could be disobedient when it suited him. All these years, and his master still had not learned how to overpower him. He could do as he pleased whenever he pleased.

But it did not please him to disobey at this moment. There was no conceivable way that an act of defiance could bring him any happiness under the circumstances. The only thing he wanted was for his master to cherish him enough to reveal him to Madarame.

It was clear that was not going to happen. Not any time soon.

"I will be waiting for you," he said. "If you don't come, I'll know you forever as a liar."

With that, he vanished.

_A liar._

That was the second time today someone had called him a liar. It was a moniker he loathed but with which he could not argue forcefully. Maybe he wasn't an outright liar, but he had lately taken to withholding the truth. Still, he was convinced it was all for good reason.

Ikkaku came bursting through the door, shutting it hurriedly behind him before the wind could blow too much rain inside.

"I'll tell you, I'm getting tired of the rain!" he roared. "I feel like I'm waterlogged—what are you doing on the floor?"

"I'm resting a bit," Yumichika replied. "I got caught in the storm, and I feel a little feverish."

"Feverish? You? The picture of health?" Ikkaku cast his wet hanten over a hook on the back of the door and walked over to where Yumichika lay. He leaned over and felt for fever. "You _are_ a little warm. That may be from lying so close to the fire—"

"It's not from the fire," Yumichika sighed. "I'm just feeling a little under the weather. I'll be fine by tomorrow."

"You need anything?"

"Some tea would be nice."

Ikkaku turned to head towards the kitchen area. "What's this pile of clothes? Sheesh, Yumichika, what did you do? Fall in the middle of a cattle wade?"

"I kind of lost my bearings in the storm and fell a few times in one of the fields," came the answer.

Ikkaku picked up the muddy, dripping mound, opened a rear shutter, and tossed the clothes into a soaking trough just outside the cottage wall. "You must be feeling pretty lousy to have just dropped them on the floor." He put the water on to boil then turned to light the kitchen table candle, which was down to a nub. "Did you get the wax?"

Yumichika caught his breath. In his panic fleeing from Pakkay, he'd left his bag with its purchases. "I lost it in the storm."

"You make it sound like you got hit by a tornado—"

"It was bad, Ikkaku," Yumichika cut him off. "But I don't want to talk about that anyway."

Ikkaku poured way too much tealeaf into the sieve. "What do you want to talk about?" he asked expectantly.

"I saw Pakkay today—"

"Ohhh," Ikkaku groaned. "I don't want to hear about him again—"

"Your father fired him."

Ikkaku turned from his tea-making. "What?"

"He fired him because of the fight," Yumichika went on, reaching up to wipe some drops of sweat from his brow. "I ran into him living in one of Maiweg's orchard sheds."

"He's working for Maiweg?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask. He just told me he got fired because of the fight and that he was living in the shed," Yumichika replied.

Ikkaku hesitated a moment then shrugged and turned back to the tea. "There's nothing I can do about it."

"Yes, there is," Yumichika countered. "You can go tell your father that you're not sleeping with Pakkay."

Ikkaku startled. "Why would my father think I was sleeping with Pakkay?"

"Because that's what Pakkay told him," Yumichika answered.

Ikkaku shook his head. "Why the hell would he tell him that? That doesn't make any sense. He'd have to know that a lie like that would get him into trouble. And why would he tell my father the same lie that he's telling you?"

"I don't know," Yumichika moaned. "I don't care. I just want you to go talk to your father."

Ikkaku chuckled. "You must really be sick to make a stupid statement like that." He fixed the tea and brought it over only to find Yumichika already asleep. He settled down beside him. "But don't worry. I intend to find out what's going on," he said out loud, although he was now speaking only to himself.

He helped himself to the tea.

* * *

><p>"So, tell me what happened," Ruri'iro Kujaku insisted, sitting down beside his master in the center of the bed in the maroon room.<p>

Yumichika drew in a long breath. "I overreacted to something Pakkay did."

"What did he do?"

"It's nothing, really. Like I said, I overreacted," Yumichika replied, trying to play it off as if it were not worth discussing.

"It was significant enough that you ended up needing my help. What was it?" Ruri'iro pressed.

"He, uh, he did something that reminded me of the things I used to do in Mito," Yumichika said, diverting his gaze, the color rising in his cheeks.

"He wanted to have sex with you?" Ruri'iro asked.

"I—I don't know. I think so," Yumichika answered, confused. "I gave him the obi—"

"What obi?"

Yumichika winced. He'd forgotten that Ruri'iro Kujaku had no idea of the things he'd been doing lately.

"I made him and Totui obi's. I'd been working on them for regular sale, but after Ikkaku's fight with Pakkay, I decided to give them as gifts, sort of a way to apologize for what had happened," he explained.

"Madarame got into a fight with Pakkay?"

"Yes, and—"

"What about?"

"That's not important," Yumichika replied. "All that matters is that he got into a fight. After twenty years without fighting, he goes and picks a fight with his father's servant. I can't even believe how stupid he was."

Ruri'iro simpered. "Hm, it would appear his stupidity is rubbing off on you."

"Kimi, don't start," Yumichika groaned. "You asked me what happened. Now, let me finish telling you." A pause. "Today, I went into town to pick up a few things and I took the long way home through the orchards. A storm came up and I took shelter in one of the sheds. I could see someone was living there, and then a few seconds later, Pakkay came in. He told me he'd been fired by Ikkaku's father because of the fight. I gave him the obi to say I'm sorry, and he . . . well, he acted like he was going to . . . to tie me up with it."

"I understand now."

"I was so shocked that I ran away. I wasn't thinking clearly, and the storm was still going on. I couldn't see where I was going, and I was . . . I was scared. I was afraid he would come after me," Yumichika said in a rush.

"And that's when you called on me."

"I needed your help," Yumichika said.

"And when you no longer needed me, you wanted me to leave," Ruri'iro Kujaku added.

"It wasn't that I didn't need or want you anymore. Ikkaku was coming, and—"

"And you're not ready to show me to him. Yes, I know," Ruri'iro cut him off. "So, why did you come here tonight?"

"I told you I would," Yumichika replied.

"Yes, but why? You don't want to be with me. That's clear. I've become something useful to you – just like you're useful to Madarame," the peacock fussed. "Even now, I can tell that you want to leave."

"I only want to leave when you act like this," Yumichika retorted. "And lately, you've been acting like this every time. You're so jealous that . . . well, it's not very pleasant being around you. I get tired of hearing you say nasty things about Ikkaku." He was silent for a long moment. "We never used to talk about him at all. We would spend hours here, just exploring or training or just . . . being in each other's presence. We don't do that anymore."

Ruri'iro was not moved. "You also used to let me share in your life. You let me have a window to the outside world, to hear the things you hear and see the things you see. I could sense your emotions and even read your thoughts. We were very close to being one soul. It was a great freedom. But all that is gone now."

Yumichika sighed. "It has to be this way," he said. "I know it's painful for you, but you know I'm right. If I really am your master, then you know there have to be certain barriers between us, barriers that I control."

"And Madarame is one of those barriers—" Ruri'iro began.

"No, no, he's not," Yumichika corrected, shaking his head. "You want to blame everything on him, but it's been my decision to block you out. You had to know this would happen."

The zanpakuto sat with hunched shoulders. "Yes, I knew. But I miss you, master."

This was the Ruri'iro Kujaku against which Yumichika had little defense. The sad, contrite, honest azure peacock whose only true wish was to spend every possible moment in the presence of his beloved master.

"I'll make a deal with you," Yumichika offered. "I will come to you every night, if you promise that during our time together, you won't go off on Ikkaku."

This was cheerfully received. "Every night?" Ruri'iro asked.

"Every night."

"Then I accept."

"Now, come lie down," Yumichika said with a weak grin. "I'm tired, and I just want to feel you beside me."

* * *

><p>Potato latkes and dried fish again. Three days in a row.<p>

Ikkaku scowled. Yumichika seemed to be losing some of his creativity when it came to preparing his lunch. True, Yumichika was still recovering from his bout with fever, but that had been almost a week ago, and by now he should have been able to put a little more effort into meal preparation. Ikkaku would have to remember to say something to him this evening about it.

Of course, that did not stop him from wolfing every bite down within ten minutes as he sat atop a pile of sacks filled with rice flour in the sacking room.

Still, he was glad to have done it, for in the next moment, he lost his appetite.

He heard his father's voice coming from the mill's main wheelhouse. Ikkaku glanced up to see his father speaking to Yenset. But he heard not a single word. His eyes were riveted to the obi tied around Totui's waist. He had seen that obi every day for the past three weeks. Yumichika had been working on it every evening.

And now, here it was on his father's body.

How had he come by it? Ikkaku had not seen Yumichika bring it down to any of the weekend markets for sale. Had he passed it off to a merchant during the week? That was always a possibility.

Yenset and Totui entered the sacking room, where Yenset showed him the different types of sacking and the costs associated with each.

"I hate to spend the extra money, but I think it's necessary right now. The weather is so damp and there's so much rain, I don't want the grain to mildew," Totui was saying.

"If you buy over 200, I can give you a special rate," Yenset replied.

"Will you give me a day or two to think about it?"

"However long you need."

The two men stood thoughtfully, then Totui noticed Ikkaku's gaze fixed on his waist.

"I see you've noticed the obi," Totui said, his manner well-pleased. "Yumichika does fine work. This is as good as anything I ever had in the world of the living."

Yenset looked on admiringly. "It must have cost you a neat sum."

"It didn't cost me anything," Totui replied. "He gave it to me as a gift."

Ikkaku paled. This was the moment the entire visit had been leading up to. His father had planned the entire thing to unfold in just this way, to raise Ikkaku's suspicions and cast doubt in his mind.

It was Yenset who spoke next.

"A gift? That's a mighty generous gift. What was he repaying you for?"

Totui laughed. "Yenset-san, a gift isn't repayment. It's something given for free, for nothing. Well, I guess that's not exactly true." He looked at Ikkaku. "He gave it to me on your behalf, to apologize for what happened between you and Pakkay." He shook his head fondly. "I'll tell you, I've never met a more magnanimous soul. You know, you are a lucky man to have stumbled upon him."

Ikkaku was silent. He struggled a moment with what to do, then he left the wheelhouse for the pull barn, anxious to be away from his father but also desperate to refute the idea that Yumichika had given the obi to him. It had to be another one of his father's lies. It had to be.

Only somehow, he knew it wasn't.

He knew it was the truth.

He paced up and down the pull barn, clenching and unclenching his fists, going over again and again the words his father had said. Yumichika had felt it necessary to apologize for Ikkaku's actions. He'd felt it necessary to apologize with a token of his regret. He had bent and scraped to the man who had made it his life's work to bring Ikkaku nothing but misery and humiliation. He had expressly disregarded Ikkaku's feelings and his warnings. And Ikkaku was growing more certain by the second that this was something that had been going on from the moment Yumichika had met his father.

_"He's got you wrapped around his finger, and you're so blind that you can't even see what's going on right in front of you."_

Now, Ikkaku understood what Pakkay was trying to tell him. Yumichika had been going behind his back, cozying up to his father, even denigrating his best friend, in order to prove that he was right, that father and son should be together. Must be together.

Or to prove simply that he could do it, that his allure could conquer all.

Ikkaku slammed his fist against the wall. What damned difference did it make what Yumichika's reasons were? None at all. The fact was that Yumichika had purposefully gone against his wishes and judgment. He'd kept it hidden and only confessed to it as a "sometimes" occurrence, an aberration, the work of happenstance.

Lies. All lies.

Ikkaku stormed out of the pull barn. He needed answers.

And he needed them now.

* * *

><p>"Why are you really doing this?" Ruri'iro Kujaku asked from his perch on the open window sill, where his attention flittered between the thrushes darting among the spring garden stalks outside and his master getting dressed within.<p>

The zanpakuto was exceedingly cheerful. This made three days in a row that his master had invited him to join him in the outside world while Ikkaku was down working at the mill. Having this sort of time together made the remaining hours of isolation tolerable.

But at the moment, he had serious misgivings about his master's proposed course of action for the afternoon.

"I've already told you why," Yumichika replied. "I want to get the things I left there."

"Nonsense," Ruri'iro said knowingly. "An obi and a few blocks of wax? That's no loss."

"It was a good bag, too—"

"Kimi, do you think I'm stupid? You're not going down there to retrieve anything." He paused and leaned forward with suspicion. "Are you hoping to run into that farmhand?"

Yumichika shrugged. "Maybe." He picked up the sword form of Ruri'iro Kujaku and slid it through the obi at his waist.

"You're taking me with you this time? At least, you're showing some sense," Ruri'iro noted. "But tell me why you want to see Pakkay. What are you up to? The last time you saw him, you ended up needing me to save you—"

"That's why I'm taking you with me this time," Yumichika stated.

"But what are you hoping to achieve? Are you—are you going to kill him?" A strange, excited anticipation sounded in the kujaku's voice.

Yumichika found it distasteful. "Of course not. At least, I don't plan to. As long as he keeps his hands off me, everything will be fine."

"So, then I ask you again: why are you really going down there?"

"Because I need some answers. I want to know why he's lying to me and to Ikkaku and Ikkaku's father. I want to know what the fight was really about. I want to know why he . . . ugh—" He made a noise of disgust, ". . . why he came onto me when he's supposedly involved with Ikkaku. I just want to know what's going on, because this is ruining all my plans to get Ikkaku back with his father."

"A desire Madarame does not share with you," Ruri'iro pointed out.

"Only because he doesn't know how much better things can be if the two of them reconcile," Yumichika replied confidently.

"Master, don't you think you would do wise to find out _why_ Madarame hates his father so much before you expend any more energy on this endeavor?" the zanpakuto suggested.

"There's no way Ikkaku would tell me," Yumichika answered. "And I'm not interested in what happened in the past. I just want to make the present right."

Ruri'iro sighed in defeat. "Very well, then. I'm grateful I did not inherit your stubborn streak."

Yumichika gave a one-sided grin. "Whatever you say. Now, return. Let's go."

Ruri'iro disappeared back into the inner world. As his master left the cottage, the zanpakuto spoke in silence. "Don't be afraid to use me."

"I hope I won't have to."

Three speed moves brought him to the intersection of the northern road and the mountain path. Here he stopped abruptly, for coming along the road from the direction of the village was Totui Madarame and two of his farmhands.

Totui saw him from a distance and waved his arm.

Yumichika waited, and as three men drew closer, he was surprised to see that the obi he had left at Pakkay's was around Totui's waist.

"Yumichika-kun! It's nice to see you!" Totui shouted as he closed the ground between them. He sent his two hands on ahead and stopped for a chat. "I just came from the mill. I saw Ikkaku, but he was headed out somewhere."

"He's always on the run," Yumichika smiled. "I see you got the obi I made for you."

"Yes, yes, I did! Pakkay brought it over a day or two ago. He said you accidentally left it at his place," Totui said amiably. "That was nice of him, wasn't it? He has every reason to keep it for himself, considering all that's happened. But I'm glad he gave it to me. It's splendid. You have quite a talent."

"I've been doing it for years, even when I was in the world of the living," Yumichika replied.

"I can tell," Totui said. "The workmanship is top-notch, and the design . . . beautiful. Thank you very much. You didn't have to give me anything, though."

"It was my way of apologizing for what happened between Ikkaku and Pakkay. Ikkaku admitted that he was the one who started the whole thing—"

"Don't be so sure of that. There's a good chance that Pakkay might have provoked him," Totui interjected. "Either way, you didn't have to apologize."

"I just don't want anything to—I want you and Ikkaku to have a chance at . . . at . . . "

"I know," Totui said, taking a step forward and placing a hand on Yumichika's shoulder. "And that's very kind of you. Sadly, I'm afraid it won't make any difference." He walked past him towards a watering trough a few feet down the road, where he stopped to splash some water on his face.

"Why not?" Yumichika asked. "Isn't it worth trying?"

Totui wiped his face on his sleeve. "I once thought so. I'm not so sure anymore. Ikkaku will never be able to forgive me, and . . . maybe he has good reason." He sat down on the edge of the trough. "I made a lot of mistakes – terrible mistakes – when Ikkaku was young. He's hated me for it ever since. I tried to make it up to him when he got older, but it was too late. He wanted nothing to do with me." He paused. "That's why I'm here. I searched all over Soul Society for him. I finally found him and decided to settle here to see if I could fix things. But it's clear to me now that it's just too late. There's nothing I can do."

"But there may be something I can do," Yumichika put forth. "I don't know what happened between the two of you, but I do know that Ikkaku isn't unreasonable. He isn't cold-hearted. Given time, he'll come around. There's nothing he wouldn't do for me."

Totui nodded. "I believe that. Like I said before, he seems to be very fond of you. I might even go so far as to say he loves you."

"That wouldn't be such a stretch," Yumichika replied with a chuckle. "We've been friends a long time, and I think it's safe to say he does love me as a friend – though he'd never admit it."

"I think you might be the only friend he's ever had," Totui commented.

"No, I'm not the only one," Yumichika replied, thinking of Kaekae and some of the villagers in Venla. Perhaps they could not really be called friends, but they were close acquaintances with whom Ikkaku had maintained amicable relations.

"But you'd like to be," Totui supposed, to which Yumichika reacted with mild surprise.

"No, not at all." He paused. "I know what it's like to be . . . coveted. I know what it's like to be hoarded, when people don't want to share you with anyone else."

"Yes, I can imagine," Totui said with a thoughtful nod.

"But Ikkaku's never been like that," Yumichika went on. "He's been protective of me, because . . . well, I don't always make the best decisions."

Totui seemed genuinely pleased. "It makes me happy to hear you talk about Ikkaku that way. He'll always be my son, and every father wants to feel proud of his son."

"You have reason to be proud, Totui-san," Yumichika told him, then noticing that the sun was already directly overhead, he announced, "I should be going."

"I'm glad I ran into you," Totui said graciously. "Thank you again. Thank you for all you're trying to do."

Yumichika nodded modestly. He began walking towards the village, waiting until Totui was out of sight before employing the speed move to head back towards the orchards. He still had his original purpose to fulfill.

* * *

><p><em>"Which one of these damned sheds is it?"<em>

Ikkaku had already checked at least a dozen of the wooden structures on Maiweg's property. None of them showed any sign of being lived in. Granted, there were probably close to a hundred of the storage sheds, but Ikkaku was starting wonder if Yumichika had either lied to him yet again or hallucinated the entire episode.

He had come to the boundary hedge of one plot when he saw a man enter the same plot from the other side of the opposite hedge.

It was Pakkay.

"Pakkay!" Ikkaku shouted.

The former farmhand looked to see who was calling him and, recognizing Ikkaku, he took the diagonal across the plot and came to meet him.

"Madarame-san. I never expected to see you out here," he began. "You come looking for another fight?"

Ikkaku was grave. "No. I came looking for answers."

Pakkay was aloof. "To what questions?"

"Why did you lie to Yumichika about me and you? Why did you tell the same lie to my father?" Ikkaku demanded.

Instead of an immediate, flippant answer, Pakkay took a moment before replying, "Wishful thinking, I guess."

"Wishful thinking?"

Pakkay leaned against the trunk of one of the budding cherry trees. "I told Ayasegawa because I was hoping he'd tell you, and you'd be interested. Look, Madarame-sama told me you and Ayasegawa were lovers. Ayasegawa told me you weren't, and well . . . since I thought you were attractive, I decided to see if maybe we could, uh, you know. It all ended up backfiring on me."

"I heard you were fired," Ikkaku prompted.

"You heard right."

"Because of the fight."

"Sort of."

Ikkaku narrowed his eyes. "Because you told my father we were lovers. Why did you lie to him, too?"

Pakkay hesitated, his eyes downcast. "Because I was angry. I was angry because you didn't want me. I was angry because Madarame-sama fired me. So I wanted to hurt him and you the same way you both hurt me. I told him that lie, because I knew he'd be furious, and I didn't care at that point." A pause as he raised his eyes to look at Ikkaku. "But he already knew. Ayasegawa had already told him what I'd been saying, but Madarame-sama didn't think I was lying. He believed me." Another pause. "I guess Ayasegawa must have felt guilty because he came looking for me the other day to apologize. He brought me an obi he had made as a peace offering. It's back in the shed."

"You told me you were afraid of getting fired because you had seen things you weren't supposed to see, that Yumichika was doing stuff behind my back," Ikkaku said. "You were talking about the time he was spending with my father, trying to convince him to make peace with me, weren't you?"

Pakkay paled and looked stricken. "Yes. I knew you didn't want Ayasegawa around your father, and I thought that . . . well, if Ayasegawa really cared about you, he wouldn't have been doing something you didn't want." He took a few steps to one side, seemed to ponder his words, then turned slowly to face Ikkaku. "He has – you must know that he has some very . . . interesting methods of persuasion."

"Like what?" Ikkaku's query was flat.

"I don't—I don't really know how to describe it," Pakkay replied. "He just turns it on, and it's like a moth being drawn to a flame."

Ikkaku's heart sank. "I know what it's like."

"Well, he's very good at using it, and . . . he used it with Madarame-sama all the time," Pakkay went on.

Ikkaku felt his insides churning and tightening into knots. There was no way Pakkay could know about Yumichika's ability unless he had experienced it himself or seen it in action.

"Did he ever use it on you?" he asked.

Pakkay made a disparaging laugh. "I don't think Ayasegawa ever gave me a second look. All the time I was trying to convince him about you and me, he didn't even seem to care."

"Oh, he cared," Ikkaku replied. At that moment, he was so furious with Yumichika that he could barely think straight. Lies. Lies upon lies. Yumichika had made a fool of him, not only in front of his father, but in front of his father's worker. In front of everyone. How many people were laughing at him behind his back? And he had no doubt in his mind that Yumichika had been doing exactly as Pakkay said – using his seductive powers to try and entice his father into a reconciliation that would then have nothing to do with a genuine contrition and love, but everything to do with succumbing to Yumichika's sexual allure.

Pakkay was still speaking. "I just should have been honest. I should have come out and told you how I felt face-to-face. Then you could have at least turned me down directly."

Ikkaku looked at him and felt a sudden affinity with the man whom only moments earlier he had despised. Pakkay was now an outcast, just as Ikkaku had once been. The farmhand may have done some stupid things and played a foolish game, but the true foulness, the greater insult had been on Yumichika's part. The breach of trust was Yumichika's – and Yumichika's alone.

"Who says I'd have turned you down?" Ikkaku was not surprised at his words. This was not a spur-of-the-moment decision. This was a calculated choice. It may have been driven by anger and a feeling of betrayal, but it was not something over which he had no control. Spite was a powerful motivator, and at the moment, it was all he felt for Yumichika.

Pakkay regarded him with incredulous hope. "Well, we haven't exactly had positive exchanges in the past."

"Who gives a damn?" Ikkaku said. "We've both been screwed. You by my father. Me by Yumichika. What's left to lose?"

"But you care about Ayasegawa," Pakkay pointed out. "And I don't think you want to hurt him."

"He doesn't need to find out," Ikkaku answered. "And even if he does, so what? Maybe it will teach him a lesson."

A smile slowly crept into Pakkay's face. "You know I'm not going to turn you down. I've wanted this for months."

Ikkaku did not return the smile. For him, this was a matter of utility. "I've never wanted it." He made a visual sweep over Pakkay's body and took a step forward. "But I do now. You look like you can handle it."

Pakkay gave a chuckle of anticipation. "I guarantee you, that won't be a problem."

* * *

><p>The shed was empty.<p>

Yumichika spotted his bag lying near the foot of the bed. The obi he had made was draped over the top of the bag.

Pakkay must be out in the orchard somewhere. Yumichika could use Ruri'iro Kujaku to sift out the farmhand's meager riatsu, the ability to detect spirit energy being one of the zanpakuto's greatest skills.

Yumichika retrieved his bag, leaving the obi. It was still a gift, and the truth now was that he would be happy never to see it again.

He walked outside into the warmth of the afternoon.

"Ruri'iro Kujaku, find Pakkay's spiritual pressure," he said out loud.

"He barely has any—"

"Find what he has," Yumichika insisted. "I know you can detect it." He could sense the kujaku's displeasure, but a moment later, he got his answer, not in words but in the interior directing of his thoughts. He began walking. No speed move this time. He needed the time to think of what he was going to say and how he was going to handle the situation.

He went first along the main wagon road for nearly half a kilometer when Ruri'iro Kujaku directed him to leave the road for a grassy path lined on one side by a stone fence enclosing a plot of young cherry trees. He followed the path to a wooden stile over another stone fence, past a derelict and crumbling wooden shed, and into a plot of more mature cherry trees.

Here, Ruri'iro Kujaku suddenly spoke.

"Master, stop. This isn't a good idea."

Yumichika slowed down but did not stop. "Why?"

"Because . . . it's dangerous." The hesitation in Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice told Yumichika there was more to the story.

"I've got you with me," he said. "If he tries anything, I'll be able to take care of it."

"Master, we should go back," Ruri'iro persisted. "This serves no purpose. It will only make things worse."

"I have to find out what is going on," Yumichika replied stubbornly. "It doesn't—"

His voice fell off abruptly, and he stopped in his tracks.

A faint sensation pricked his awareness. At first, he thought he had to be mistaken, but then he felt it again.

Ikkaku's riatsu.

"No, it can't be. He wouldn't go after Pakkay again,"Yumichika said internally, and although he wasn't speaking to Ruri'iro Kujaku, it was the peacock who answered.

"Master, let's go back."

Yumichika was silent in concentration. After several seconds, he announced, "It _is_ Ikkaku's riatsu. I can barely feel it, but it's his." He began walking again, this time in the direction of the riatsu, Ruri'iro Kujaku admonishing him all the way. With each step, the sensation grew stronger until it was roiling with unfettered power and emotion.

"Master . . . master!" Ruri'iro Kujaku sounded a desperate warning. "I know you can feel that! Go back! He's enraged!

"Yes, I can feel that, but . . . there's something else," Yumichika replied.

Ruri'iro Kujaku was astounded that his master could not decipher what that something else was. The zanpakuto had recognized it immediately. It was a ravenous, capacious sexual hunger, utterly void of any sentiment. Raw physical want.

Coupled with the fury and hate Ruri'iro was also sensing, it was a dangerous combination.

"Master, that's not important. Don't you feel it? That anger is for you!" the zanpukuto said.

Yumichika ignored him and continued forward, moving slowly and stealthily. His entire body was vibrating with the force of Ikkaku's flaring riatsu, but at least he was managing to subdue his own riatsu so as to remain undetected.

He was coming to an opening in the stone wall, the passage from one plot into the next. He knew that Ikkaku was somewhere on the other side of that wall. He drew in a deep breath and stepped into the gap.

The plot into which he had entered was at least a hundred and fifty meters long and too wide for him to even see the boundary to his left. But straight ahead, at the far end of the plot, he saw what he had come to find.

Two men were on the ground. They were clearly engaged in some sort of activity; and although Yumichika could not see clearly across the distance, he immediately determined they were not fighting. He began walking with stilted steps, his movements growing stiffer, his breathing more shallow.

Ruri'iro Kujaku was still calling out to him, urging him to turn back, but his voice was distant now. The world and everything in it was shrinking down to the scene in front of him.

Ikkaku and Pakkay.

Not fighting.

They were naked, grappling with each other, their mouths groping, their hands clutching, bodies entwined like glistening snakes. Muffled sounds of desperation and ecstasy punctuated their performance.

A small crack threatened Yumichika's control over his wits and his riatsu. He could not move. He could not stop himself from looking at what was going on right there in front of him, not ten yards away now. He could see the sweat on the men's skin. He could see the expressions on their faces. He could smell their mingled scents, stronger than the cherry blossoms around them.

He felt faint. He was going to lose control if he stayed any longer.

And then Pakkay raised his head, and his eye met Yumichika's.

"Oh—we, uh, we have company," he stammered, but the expression on his face was anything but ashamed or timid.

Ikkaku looked up. "Yumichika!"

Yumichika stumbled back several steps before turning and running. He was fast, but his upset was so great and his thoughts in such turmoil, that he could not manage a decent speed through the orchard. Within seconds, he could hear footsteps behind him. A glance over his shoulder showed Ikkaku was the pursuer. He contemplated using the speed movement, but Ruri'iro Kujaku warned against it.

"You can't use that here with all these trees and walls! You're too upset! You're not concentrating! You're going to kill yourself!"

Yumichika paid him no heed. He would risk it if it meant getting away from Ikkaku. He couldn't bear the thought of seeing him right now, and he was certain he didn't want to hear anything Ikkaku had to say.

His first attempt was as not quite as disastrous as Ruri'iro Kujaku had warned. He advanced close to fifty meters before slamming into a tree. He went down hard but without any serious injury and was back on his feet quickly, now with a little more distance between him and Ikkaku.

His second attempt effectively put an end to the chase as he nicked one of the stone walls and was sent flying into another, bringing it down, stone-by-stone around him.

He was slow to get up from that one, and by the time he regained his feet, Ikkaku had caught up with him, and leaping over the jumble of stones, took Yumichika by the arms and pulled him onto more level footing.

"Yumichika, what—"

"Let go of me!" Yumichika shouted, twisting away only to have Ikkaku grip him more firmly.

"Stop fighting!" Ikkaku ordered. "You've got a lot of explaining to do!"

Yumichika glared at him, noticing now that Ikkaku had put his kosode back on but it was untied and gaping in the front, revealing his nudity and the fact that he was still aroused, even after the chase. The sight made Yumichika feel both nauseated and enraged.

"Me? What about—what about—look at you! You could—you could at least . . . cover up for the sake of decency!"

"That's not what this is about, and you know it!" Ikkaku spat out, making no attempt at modesty. He pulled Yumichika so they were face-to-face. "You've been lying to me and making a fool out of me all this time."

"_You_ were lying to me!" Yumichika retorted. "You said you weren't having sex with Pakkay, and you were!"

"I wasn't!" Ikkaku shot back, fire in his eyes. "This was the first time something like this happened! But you! You were seeing my father behind my back, trying to seduce him, apologizing for me when nothing was my fault! Damn you, Yumichika! You know _nothing_ about me and my father!"

"That's because you won't tell me—"

"Tell me how my father ended up with a piece of clothing you made," Ikkaku demanded.

Yumichika hesitated.

Ikkaku persisted. "How did he end up with something you made?"

"I made it for him," Yumichika replied, squirming in Ikkaku's grasp. "Ikkaku, that hurts. Let go."

Ikkaku did not let go. "Why did you make something for him?"

When Yumichika did not answer, Ikkaku replied to his own question. "As an apology for the fight I had with Pakkay."

Yumichika nodded.

The vein in Ikkaku's temple pulsed. "How did he get it?"

"Let go of me first," Yumichika said quietly.

Ikkaku's patience had run its course. Instead of releasing him, he tightened his grip and shook him abruptly. "How did he get it?"

"Ikkaku—"

"How did he get it, Yumichika?"

Yumichika's own sense of outrage and indignation swelled up. He jerked free and glared back at Ikkaku. "I don't know! Pakkay must have given it to him, because I—I left it here when I forgot my bag!"

Ikkaku stared at him in silence for a moment, then his anger exploded with enough force to make Yumichika step back in retreat.

"You damned liar! You went to his farm and gave it to him yourself, didn't you? You went behind my back just like you've been doing and gave it to him! You didn't just run into him! You purposefully went to see him! What the hell kind of game do you think you're playing, Yumichika! I told you to stay the hell away from him!"

Yumichika might have felt intimidated, but he was not going to give in.

"Stop trying to order me around!" he shouted back. "I didn't give it to him, but I had planned to!" His manner was defiant. "I left it here by accident, and Pakkay must have given it him! I gave one to Pakkay, too! I thought I was doing a good thing! I was trying to help you—"

Ikkaku lunged forward before Yumichika could evade him and grabbed the neck of his kimono. "Where my father is concerned, I don't need your help! I just need you to do as I tell you!"

"Well, I'm not going to!"

Ikkaku glowered at him with rage. He could not believe that Yumichika was defying him.

"Oh, yes, you are," he seethed.

"What are you going to do? Tie me up and keep me in the cottage?" Yumichika spat.

It occurred to Ikkaku at that moment that he really had no way to prevent Yumichika from doing as he pleased. He would not be violent towards him except in temper. And he could not truss or lock him up. Bullying had not worked. The only thing left was pleading, and that was one thing Ikkaku would not do.

"You really want to push me like this?" he asked bitterly. "Is your need to prove yourself that great?"

"My need to prove myself? What are you talking about?" Yumichika replied.

"I told you to stay away from him, but you couldn't listen to me," Ikkaku said. "You thought you could solve everything. You think that, just by being you, by being beautiful and friendly, that everyone will fall down at your feet. Don't you remember that that attitude is what got you in trouble back in Mito?"

"Stop it—"

"It's going to get you in trouble here, too."

Yumichika pulled away. "Stop it! How dare you say something like that to me?"

"How dare I? You're the one who went behind my back and did what I expressly told you not to—"

"You don't control me!"

"Nobody controls you! You don't even control yourself!" Ikkaku blurted out.

At that moment, Pakkay came around the corner of the stone wall.

Seeing him, Yumichika stepped back. "You . . . you . . . "

"Ayasegawa-san—" Pakkay began, moving forward, reaching his arm out in a dubious gesture.

Yumichika's hand flew to his waist and he drew his sword. "Don't come near me!"

Ikkaku was stunned. "Yumichika, what are you doing?"

"Send him away!" Yumichika demanded.

Pakkay lowered his arm and backed off. "Ayasegawa-san, I know you're upset—"

"Shut up!" Yumichika's voice was nearly a scream. "Leave us! Get out of here now!"

Now, Ikkaku tried to approach him. "Yumichika, put your sword away."

"Not until he leaves!"

"What's wrong with you?" Ikkaku demanded. "You're acting like this is his fault, when it's yours!"

"It's not my fault!" Yumichika protested, and his voice broke. "You lied to me . . . how—how could you do this?"

"The same way you did it with my father—"

"I didn't do anything with your father! How could you think that of me?"

"Because it's who you are! It's like I said, you can't control yourself!"

His words burned like flame. Yumichika felt as if he were, in fact, losing control. His anger was too great to be contained. He was about to retort when he saw Ikkaku's eyes widened.

"What the hell is going on?" Ikkaku said, taking a step back.

Yumichika had no idea what he meant, and he was in too much anguish to care. "Why would you lie to me like this?"

Ikkaku ignored the question. "Look at—look at yourself, Yumichika!" he bellowed. "What's happening to you?"

Yumichika's gaze went down to his hands, and he gasped. A greenish-blue light was rising like smoke from his body.

"What are you doing?" Ikkaku cried out. "Your riatsu is—that's not your normal riatsu! Yumichika!"

Yumichika had no idea what was happening to him. The light he was seeing around his body – he recognized it from his inner world. It was the same light that enveloped Ruri'iro Kujaku. But he did not feel the zanpakutou's presence in this. No, this was something he had brought about apparently all on his own.

And it was consuming him. He could not stop it from intensifying. And as the aura grew stronger, so did the feelings of anger and hurt. At that moment, he felt an urge he'd never felt before.

"Sake . . . sake . . . "

"Yumichika, what are you doing?" Ikkaku yelled, still livid but now fearful for Yumichika's safety.

Yumichika looked back up at Ikkaku, his face cast in helpless confusion.

In his periphery, Ikkaku saw Pakkay spring forward. Before he could stop him, Pakkay had delivered a blow that dropped Yumichika to the ground, unconscious.

Ikkaku leapt forward to Yumichika's side. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"What do you mean? You saw what was happening to him," Pakkay answered, sounding disturbed. "What was that?"

Ikkaku wasn't fully sure himself, but he had an idea. "It was his riatsu."

"His riatsu?" Pakkay sounded incredulous, stepping forward and picking up Yumichika's sword, which had fallen from his hand a few yards away. "You can't see riatsu."

"Apparently, you can," Ikkaku countered, "Because that's what that was." He ran a hand over Yumichika's flushed cheek.

After a brief silence, Pakkay asked, "What do you want to do with him?"

"I'm going to take him home," Ikkaku replied. He looked up and saw Pakkay holding Yumichika's sword. "Give that to me."

Pakkay handed it over. "You, uh, you just want to take him home?"

"What else would I do?" Ikkaku asked, not really expecting an answer and cringing at the feeling he got holding Yumichika's weapon in his hand.

"Well, uh . . . we, uh, there may never be a better chance," Pakkay suggested.

Ikkaku froze for a moment, then he slowly raised his eyes. When he looked at Pakkay, it was as if he were seeing him for the first time.

"A better chance . . . for what?"

Pakkay's voice had a sly inflection. "Look at him . . . you know."

Ikkaku got to his feet. "I hope you're not suggesting what I think you are."

"Why not? Ikkaku-san, you said you and Ayasegawa were never lovers, and I believe you. But don't you want to know what it would be like?" He looked at him with delving eyes. "It's not as if he doesn't deserve it, what with all the lies he told you and the things he was doing with your father behind your back."

Ikkaku stared at him in horror, and it wasn't just at the idea being proposed. No, the realization was dawning in Ikkaku's mind that he and Yumichika had been carefully manipulated and guided to this point – the point of not trusting each other, the point of being jealous and suspicious, even hateful. None of this had happened by mistake. This was all by design. His father's design.

And he had fallen right into it, as had Yumichika.

This ignorant farmhand . . . he wasn't ignorant at all. He wasn't a bit player. He was a skilled deceiver filling a key role in a game that had been set in motion the day Ikkaku had encountered his father in the millhouse. And now that he had succeeded in his purpose, setting Ikkaku and Yumichika at odds with one another, he wanted to celebrate his success by raping the unconscious victim of his ploys.

"If you want to, go ahead," Ikkaku said bluntly. He felt something cold and hard and angry forming in the pit of his stomach.

A surprised grin of delight showed in Pakkay's face. He had expected Ikkaku to put up greater resistance to the idea.

"Do you want the honor of going first?" Pakkay asked, twisted humor in his voice.

"No," Ikkaku replied, moving away from Yumichika. "You go ahead."

Pakkay stepped past him, a sparkle in his eye and anticipation radiating from every part of his body. Ikkaku turned. His fingers tightened around the hilt of Yumichika's sword.

There was no hesitation. He drove the sword into Pakkay's back with enough force to send it protruding out from his chest.

Only a brief gurgling sound preceded Pakkay's collapse to the ground. He fell to his knees as Ikkaku pulled the sword clear. A moment later, the farmhand lay face down in the grass, the life draining out of him.

Ikkaku did not watch the final moments. Instead, he looked at the weapon in his hand, the weapon he so disliked, the one he could not picture covered with blood. And yet, here it was, shining red with the aftermath of death.

Ikkaku's loathing was still intact, but at least he could take some solace in the fact that the weapon could be useful and not only beautiful. He wiped it clean on the hem of Pakkay's tunic, and then he returned to Yumichika.

"I guess we both have trouble with controlling ourselves."

It was the truth, and it while it would not make his decision any easier, it would make it clearer.

He picked him up and began the long walk back to the cottage.


	22. Chapter 22

**Warning: sexual content.  
>Dear Reader, some of you will be frustrated, or maybe even angry with this chapter, but it's necessary in order for me to set up the situation that we see in Ikkaku's flashback during his fight with Edorad. In the extended anime flashback, I thought the relationship between Ikkaku and Yumichika seemed to be somewhat distant and utilitarian. I'm trying to draw a path into those circumstances. <strong>

* * *

><p>Chapter 22 Hard Decisions<p>

"_You'll know how many times I have wondered,  
><em>_Watching my soul rifting under.  
><em>_Oh, I do love you, only as much as I can do.  
><em>_The feeling's too strong now to undo.  
><em>_Please never try.  
><em>_Lover, please hurry home."_

_Forever To Be Alone  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p>Ikkaku felt the body in his arms move slightly. A glance told him Yumichika was regaining consciousness.<p>

He moved off the road into the shaded cool of the cherry trees and set Yumichika down in the grass. He had been walking for about fifteen minutes and was still half a kilometer short of Maiweg's property boundary and the end of the orchards.

He had no idea what to expect when Yumichika came to his senses, so he made sure that both his and Yumichika's swords were in his possession and out of Yumichika's reach.

When, at last, Yumichika opened his eyes, it was to see Ikkaku sitting cross-legged beside him, tugging at blades of grass and regarding him with wariness in his eyes.

Yumichika remained lying down, staring back at Ikkaku with a sort of dull disbelief.

"Are you okay?" Ikkaku asked.

When Yumichika did not answer, Ikkaku went on unasked.

"Pakkay hit you," he said. "Your riatsu went wild. Don't you remember? We could actually see it around you."

Still, Yumichika remained silent.

"I'd never felt anything like it before. It wasn't—it wasn't what I normally feel from you, either. It was as if you were being taken over by something." He paused. "And you had your sword out. I guess he felt threatened, so he knocked you out."

But Yumichika did not care about any of that. Only one thing was on his mind. He barely had the courage to say it. "Why did you lie to me?"

"I didn't lie to you, Yumichika," Ikkaku replied. "I was never involved with Pakkay. What you just saw was . . . the only time, and it was a mistake. I was angry. " The remnants of that anger showed in his manner. "In some twisted way, I thought I was . . . I thought I was getting back at you."

"Back at me for what?"

"For lying to me and going to my father behind my back," Ikkaku replied, then he added emphatically, "You _were_ lying to me, Yumichika. And you completely disregarded what I told you. And then . . . you took Pakkay's side—my father's side—over mine and—"

"What happened with you and Pakkay had nothing to do with what I was trying to accomplish with your father," Yumichika interrupted.

"It had everything to do with my father," Ikkaku refuted. "Don't you see? Pakkay was playing us, Yumichika. You and me. My father put him up to it, and he carried it out perfectly. I let my guard down, and my father snuck his poison in just like he always did."

"Ikkaku, that doesn't . . . I don't believe that," Yumichika lamented, sitting up. "Your father couldn't know that I would find you and Pakkay together—"

"It wasn't about you catching us in the act, Yumichika," Ikkaku stressed. "It was about putting the doubt and suspicion in our minds. That's how—"

"I never doubted you," Yumichika said. "Until today."

"Yes, you did," Ikkaku insisted. "You doubted that I knew what was best with regard to my own father. You doubted me when I told you to stay away from him."

"And so, to get back at me, you decided to have sex with Pakkay?" Yumichika said, his tone derisive.

"I told you—"

"I was positive Pakkay was lying when he told me those things. I knew there was no way you could be sleeping with him." The derision melted into grief. "How could I have been so wrong?"

"Yumichika—"

"Where is he now?"

Ikkaku hesitated before answering, "He's dead."

Yumichika turned ashen. "What?"

"I killed him," Ikkaku went on, lowering his eyes but not in remorse. "And I'm not sorry I did it."

"How—how—why—" Yumichika could not complete the sentence.

"He wanted to—to . . . " Ikkaku fumbled for the words. "To do things to you while you were unconscious." He paused. "That's when I knew the whole thing had been a setup. If he had gotten me to go along with him, it would have destroyed our friendship for good, and my father would have won."

"So you—you killed him?" Yumichika still could not believe it. "Ikkaku, that—that—"

"It's done, Yumichika. He's dead, and he deserved it."

Yumichika was speechless. He could not get his head around the idea that Ikkaku had killed a man with whom only minutes earlier he'd been sharing a sexual encounter. And he'd killed the man, ostensibly, to protect him.

"What are we going to do?" he asked at length, his voice barely audible.

"That's what we need to think about," Ikkaku replied. He stood up and extended his hand.

Yumichika accepted, and Ikkaku helped him to his feet.

"You okay to walk?"

Yumichika nodded. Then with a sudden realization, his hand went to his waist. "Where's Ru—where's my sword?"

Ikkaku held out the weapon. He said nothing about its recent use. There was no sense in adding to the chaos.

Yumichika slid the sword through his obi, and the two men began walking back towards the mountain path.

"What did you do with his body?" Yumichika asked right away.

"I left him where I killed him."

"Out in the open? What if someone finds him?" Yumichika fretted.

Ikkaku was not concerned. "Yumichika, this is still the Rukongai. No one cares. People hardly even notice when someone dies. I've killed a lot of people since coming to Soul Society. He's just one more."

Under other circumstances, Yumichika might have considered Ikkaku's words callous, but not this time. He knew Ikkaku was merely stating the truth of the matter and that there was no regret or guilt associated with Pakkay's death.

"I just—what if—what if there was no scheme involving your father?" Yumichika began, for he was still not convinced that Totui had any part of recent events. "That would mean Pakkay was acting on—"

"He would still deserve to die," Ikkaku replied. "I didn't kill him because he was part of my father's plan. I killed him because he wanted to rape you while you were lying there unconscious, and he wanted me to do it to you, as well."

Yumichika shook his head. When he spoke, it was clear that he was suffering a hurt that Ikkaku had not imagined possible. The sense of betrayal was palpable. "But I don't understand, then, how you could . . . why you would have even wanted to . . . to touch him the way you were, and let him touch you—" His voice was trembling.

Ikkaku stopped and turned to face him, taking him squarely by the shoulders. "Yumichika, listen to me. He had both of us fooled. We both thought he was something he wasn't. But I told you, I made a mistake. I made a mistake, but I'm paying for it now." He saw the query in Yumichika's eyes. "All I've ever wanted to do since Mito is protect you, keep you from getting hurt. Not just physically, but inside, too. I wanted you to be happy. That's why I brought you to Venla." He paused. "But since my father came here, that's all been falling apart."

"Ikkaku—"

"And I let it happen. I gave in to all the tricks, the lies. So did you," Ikkaku went on. "But I swear to you, Yumichika, for what it's worth, there's only one person in this world – in any world – that I give a damn about." He set his jaw. "And I'll do whatever I have to, to protect him."

Yumichika looked back at him in humbled silence.

Ikkaku went on. "And if you ever really believed that I would choose Pakkay over you, then let me prove to you how wrong you were." His hands moved from Yumichika's shoulders up to his face, taking gentle hold and pulling him closer.

"Stop." Yumichika pressed his hands against Ikkaku's chest.

Ikkaku frowned. "I understand. I guess, after what just happened, you wouldn't want me-"

"It's not that," Yumichika said, sounding embarrassed and looking away. "You smell like him."

This was the last thing Ikkaku had expected to hear. He drew back dumbfounded but hesitated only a moment before taking Yumichika by the wrist and leading him at a run off the road and through the orchards toward the mountains.

"Ikkaku, what are you doing! Where are we going?" Yumichika called out.

"Just keep running!" Ikkaku huffed back.

After five minutes dashing through the orchards, jumping stone walls and wooden fences, and passing at least one pile of dead tree limbs waiting for burning day, Yumichika saw up ahead a line of tall trees running perpendicular to the line he and Ikkaku were taking and parallel to the mountains. It was the tree line that marked the course of the small Dambach stream, swollen with spring rain to admirable size but still within its banks at this juncture.

As they drew near, Ikkaku was already shedding his clothing. He did not stop before running straight to the edge of a low bank and jumping in. Yumichika came to the verge and stopped.

Ikkaku popped to the surface with a great splash.

"What are you doing?" Yumichika demanded. "Are you crazy? That water's freezing! It's full of spring melt, and look how deep it is!"

Ikkaku swam upstream about thirty meters, where the bank leveled out and he was able to walk out easily.

Yumichika picked up Ikkaku's clothes and sword and followed him along the bank. He met him as he came out of the water and held out the crumpled kosode.

"That was stupid! Why did you—"

"I don't smell like him anymore."

Yumichika felt his skin flush with warmth, and it was not the result of their run. He lowered his arm and dropped the kosode to the ground. The rest of Ikkaku's belongings followed. Then he set his own sword on the ground; slowly and deliberately, he reached behind his back and untied his obi. He walked forward, slipping the kimono from his shoulders and letting it fall. One deft move unwound the fundoshi at his hips, leaving him naked.

He crossed the last few meters until he stood face-to-face with Ikkaku. He stared up at him for several long seconds before reaching up and drawing his head down, meeting his lips in a kiss that was amazingly tender and restrained considering the circumstances. He felt Ikkaku's hands go to his hips, his grip strong and firm.

And Yumichika felt . . . safe. He raised his other arm and pulled Ikkaku into a deeper kiss.

Ikkaku had never imagined it would be this rapturous. All those years ago, when he has kissed Yumichika in a moment of thoughtless weakness, it had been merely a pleasant experience, despite the fact that Yumichika had not responded at all and had actually been pained by the whole sordid mess. But this . . . this was the threshold of ecstasy, the most thrilling contact he'd ever had, and it was only a kiss! He dared not entertain any thoughts of what else might be possible.

The feel of Yumichika's body pressed against his threatened to rob him of all control, but he could not let that happen. The wrong move here might be impossible to undo. He was going to do this right. Still keeping hold of Yumichika, he eased back from the kiss long enough to look his beautiful lover in the eye.

"You're sure you're okay doing this?" he whispered.

Yumichika was breathless. "I'm trying not to—to let my spirit energy break free." He dropped his hands to rest atop Ikkaku's, encouraging him to tighten his grip. "I just want to keep feeling like this." He closed his eyes and let his head rock back in enticement.

Ikkaku took the invitation. He pressed his mouth to Yumichika's throat, savoring the taste of his skin, the unlikely combination of the saltiness of sweat and the sweetness of . . . flowers. Wisteria. It was tantalizing, and he could not get enough of it. For all the times he had sparred with Yumichika, been in close contact, dominated and defeated him, he'd never felt anything like this before. He'd always known Yumichika was slender, but now, his hands on Yumichika's hips drove home the point. He could reach his fingers almost all the way around him, and while Ikkaku knew that there was nothing fragile or delicate about Yumichika, he felt as if he were only now recognizing just how slight he really was. It would be so easy to take whatever he wanted, and it was that very _want_ that had to remain in check. He had to be very careful and keep control of his desire. It was more important than ever that he not make any mistakes. Not now.

And with the way Yumichika was writhing and moaning in his arms, it would not be easy to hold back. If even a small bit of Yumichika's riatsu escaped, there would be no question of Ikkaku being able to restrain himself. He was barely able to do so now, and as Yumichika rubbed his hands forcefully on top of Ikkaku's, the motion drove Ikkaku's hands to do the same over Yumichika's hips.

Yumichika felt as if he were slipping into a dream. How long had it been since another man had touched him like this? And since he had enjoyed it? Of course, he had been intimate with Ruri'iro Kujaku, but they had never gone beyond kissing and caressing. Ruri'iro Kujaku had been firmly set against anything further as being a hindrance to their relationship. And even though Yumichika had seldom thought of Ikkaku in an erotic manner, he could think of nothing else at the moment.

He drew in a shuddering breath. "Touch me," he whispered. "I want you to—to touch me."

Ikkaku wrapped his arms around him and took him to the ground. He ran a hand up the outside of his thigh, delighting in the long, hard line of the muscle and the concave sweep of his pelvis. At the same time, he felt Yumichika's hands, one running over his chest, the other his back. He craned his head to see Yumichika lying across his arm, chest heaving, mouth agape, drops of sweat plastering his hair across his forehead and dripping down his cheeks.

Ikkaku continued to watch as he moved his hand to caress Yumichika's inner thigh.

That first moment of contact, still so far down his leg, brought a violent spasm to Yumichika's body.

"Are you alright?" Ikkaku asked, afraid that terrible memories might be reawakening.

Yumichika's answer put those fears to rest.

"Keep going . . . keep going."

Ikkaku resumed the slow journey, his gaze going now between the movement of his hand and the expression on Yumichiika's face. When Yumichika's intermittent moans turned into cries of desperate anticipation and growing excitement, Ikkaku bent his elbow under his neck, fixing his head fast, and muffling his mouth with a ravenous assault.

Yumichika could not catch his breath. At this rate, he would not last much longer and that was without any direct stimulation. It amazed him that Ikkaku could bring him so easily and rapidly to this point. Ikkaku's tongue in his mouth was unrelenting and forceful. The way Ikkaku held his head immobile in the crook of his arm so that he could not escape would have brought him panic at another time. But now it fed a hunger in him that had long lain dormant after the events in Mito. He wanted to be dominated. He wanted Ikkaku to take him and do as he pleased. He wanted to submit, and he wanted something thrilling to submit to.

He felt Ikkaku's fingers, kneading the flesh of his groin, and he absorbed the sensation with relish. He was ready for more. He reached down his own hand, and taking Ikkaku's, guided them both to his privates.

But here, to his surprise, Ikkaku withdrew his hand. His voracious attack on Yumichika's mouth stopped.

"What's wrong?" Yumichika asked, his voice cracking and desperate.

Ikkaku hesitated, clearly troubled.

"Ikkaku? What's wrong?" Yumichika asked again, pressing the palm of his hand against Ikkaku's cheek.

"Yumichika . . . you're not going to believe this, but . . . "

"But what?"

Ikkaku sighed heavily. "I—I've never done this before."

A look of astonishment came into Yumichika's face. "Never?"

Ikkaku nodded.

"But—but what about with Pakkay? I saw you—"

"We never got any further than what you and I are doing now," Ikkaku answered, sounding at once embarrassed and defiant.

"And you never—do you mean you've never been with a man like this?" Yumichika asked.

"Or a woman." Ikkaku was blunt. "Not in the world of the living and not here." He waited for the inevitable disbelief, the questions, the why and the why not.

But he would get no such reaction from Yumichika, who, instead, regarded him with an adoring eye.

"Then I'll be your first," he said, wondering if it were possible to love someone more than he loved Ikkaku at that moment.

Ikkaku took hold of Yumichika's hand, the one against his own cheek, and brought it to his lips, kissing his palm once, then again and again, breathing in the smell of him. Was there no perfection Yumichika did not possess?

"There isn't going to be a first," he said softly.

At first, Yumichika was not sure what he meant, but his confidence was enough that it enabled him to inquire. "Because a first implies a second? And there won't be a second? I'll be the only one – ever?"

Ikkaku gave a long exhalation as he rolled onto his back and pulled Yumichika over to lie on top of him. Running his hands down the curve of Yumichika's back, over the round of his buttocks, he still felt in command, even though he knew, from a practical standpoint, Yumichika was far more experienced and in possession of abilities vastly more powerful than anything he could bring to the table with regard to sexual conquest.

"You _are_ the only one, Yumichika," he affirmed. "And yes, you'll always be the only one." He paused and gathered his resolve. "Which is why I need you to understand that . . . this is the way I want you."

Yumichika raised his head and looked at him with puzzled eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I want to hold you and kiss you and . . . know every part of you, but . . . I don't want to go beyond that," Ikkaku stumbled through his answer.

Yumichika was stunned in silence, but only briefly. When he found his voice, his words were filled with confusion. "But how—how can you know every part of me if you don't—if we don't—you'll never fully know me if we never . . . make it complete."

"Is that what you really believe?" Ikkaku asked.

Yumichika sighed and sat up, straddling Ikkaku's waist. "No," he admitted. "I know it's not true. You already know me deeper than anyone, but I wanted to—I wanted you to—" He gave up trying to find a delicate way of saying what was on his mind and hanging his head in concession, spoke plainly. "Am I wrong for wanting to feel you inside me?"

Ikkaku's answer was spoken evenly. "Yes."

Yumichika made a sound like a wounded bird and started to get to his feet, but Ikkaku reached out and, taking him by the wrists, pulled him back down. They sat facing each other, Ikkaku holding Yumichika's hands between them.

"Don't be upset," he said earnestly.

Yumichika would not look at him. "I can't figure out if you want me or if you don't."

"How can you doubt it?"

"But then, why won't you even touch me that way?" Yumichika implored.

"I have my reasons," Ikkaku replied. "They're the same reasons I've never taken anyone."

"Then tell me, what are those reasons?"

"You wouldn't understand," Ikkaku said gently. "And besides, it doesn't matter right now."

"It does matter!" Yumichika insisted. "We've come this far—after all these years—don't you—don't you think . . . "

"Yumichika, listen to me. And please try to understand," Ikkaku began. "Everything's mixed up right now. I don't want you to get hurt. Being together that way would only complicate things. The most important thing is to make sure you're safe." He paused. "That's why I've decided to leave."

Yumichika's startled at this announcement. "What?" He tried to pull his hands free, but Ikkaku tightened his grip.

"I'm leaving—"

"Leaving . . . Venla?"

Ikkaku nodded. "It's the only way to stop things from escalating. It's the only way to make sure you're safe."

"How—how is your leaving going to make things better?" Yumichika demanded. "Is this . . . is this because you killed Pakkay? Are you running away from that?"

"No one would even care about that," Ikkaku replied. "And that has nothing to do with my decision. Yumichika . . . if I stay here, my father won't stop until he's destroyed our relationship. He'll find another plan to come between us—"

"But he had no part in this—" Yumichika protested.

"You may believe that, Yumichika, but you're wrong," Ikkaku said. "I know better."

Yumichika was silent for a moment. When he spoke, it was with conviction. "If you feel you must leave, I'll go with you."

Ikkaku had expected this. Here was the hard part.

"No," he refused. "I want you to stay here, Yumichika."

"But . . . why?"

"You'll be a lot safer if I go away for a while. My father won't pay any attention to you if he can't get to me through you. I wouldn't be surprised if he left the village altogether and went looking for me," Ikkaku explained. "Either way, you'd be safe."

"I want to go with you."

Ikkaku caressed his cheek. "You love it here, Yumichika. I'm not about to take you from this place—"

"How much am I going to love it if you're not here?"

"It's just for a while," Ikkaku insisted. "I'll come back in a month or two, and if my father's still here, we'll leave together. If he's gone, we'll stay. It's the best thing for everyone. At the rate I'm going, I—I'm feeling that urge to fight much more frequently, and my father's presence is to blame. I need to get away before I start causing trouble, and you get pulled into the middle of it. No one may care about Pakkay, but I like the rest of these people, and I don't want to do anything to jeopardize our standing here."

"Ikkaku . . . please don't do this," Yumichika begged. "Don't go. Or if you do, take me with you."

"Yumichika—"

"If you knew you were leaving, why did you—why did you start this? Why did you wait until now to—to—"

"Because I wanted to show you what you mean to me, Yumichika. I wanted you to know that, no matter what happens, I'm willing to risk everything for you."

"I don't want you to risk everything. I don't want you to risk anything!" Yumichika protested. "I want you to stay with me."

"I'll only be gone for a while," Ikkaku emphasized. "You'll be okay. The villagers will look after you—"

"I'm not worried about that," Yumichika cut him off. "I can take care of myself. I just—I don't want you to go," he finished miserably.

"It's not just for you, Yumichika," Ikkaku said. "It's for me, too. I've got to—to cool down. My father's tricks are getting the better of me and making me the way I used to be." A pause. "The time will go by quickly. You'll see."

But Yumichika could not be consoled.

Ikkaku lay back and drew Yumichika down with him. Neither of them spoke for a long time. Yumichika lay in Ikkaku's embrace, unable to think of anything other than what the end of that embrace would mean.

Ikkaku had other things on his mind, and at length, he decided it was time to make some inquiries.

"There is something else that concerns me, Yumichika," he said.

"What?" Yumichika asked in a quiet, gloomy voice.

"What happened to you back in the orchard when you confronted me and Pakkay?" Ikkaku asked. "What happened to your riatsu?"

Yumichika felt a jolt go through his body. "I, uh . . . I don't know. I didn't realize anything was happening."

"Yes, you did. You saw it. You looked down and saw that light rising from your body," Ikkaku pointed out. "And I felt it. It was your riatsu, but it was of a totally different level. There was something else to it." He put his finger under Yumichika's chin and raised his head. "It was dangerous."

"You . . . think I'm dangerous?"

"I think what happened was dangerous," Ikkaku said.

Seeing the pall that fell over Yumichika's face, Ikkaku went on. "Yumichika, tell me what's going on. First, you give off a riatsu that's stronger than anything I've ever felt. Then you—when you were running away, you suddenly . . . you vanished. Twice. And showed up somewhere else."

"I don't have an explanation," Yumichika insisted. "I don't know what happened."

"It's the hollow, isn't it?"

This statement, said without accusation or malice but piled on top of everything else, was all Yumichika needed to let loose the emotions he'd been fighting hard to keep under control.

"There is no hollow!" he burst out. "Why won't you believe me? There is no hollow! There's never been a hollow! Please, stop thinking that! I wouldn't lie to you about a hollow!"

"Take it easy," Ikkaku said in an apologetic tone. "Take it easy. I'm sorry." After several seconds, he added, "There has to be some explanation. I hoped you would know."

"I don't have an answer," Yumichika replied. He could not tell him the truth. _"All the time I've been spending with you has made Ruri'iro Kujaku jealous, and without him to guide me, I'm not learning how to control my power – or his." _But instead, he simply concluded with, "And I don't care what the answer is." He started to sit up. "I want to go back up the mountain."

Ikkaku drew him back down. He could not let it end this way.

"Yumichika . . . "Ikkaku lowered him to the ground and kissed him tenderly. "You'll understand one day why I'm doing this."

But for Yumichika, the why was unimportant. He saw only one thing – the joy of the past 18 years in Venla was coming to an end.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23 Leaving Venla

_"One day, the grayness of morning upon you,  
><em>_a part of your life taken from you  
><em>_just for a while.  
><em>_Silently waiting for someone who'll know why  
><em>_the price of an hour of love is so high.  
><em>_Oh, I do.  
><em>_Forever to be alone._

_Forever to Be Alone  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p>It was cold. Despite the warmth of the body next to him, Ikkaku shivered. Opening his eyes, he could tell from the murky light that it was just before dawn. He looked down to see Yumichika's head against his chest.<p>

They had fallen asleep outside, lying in the same spot by the stream, both of them still naked and now covered with a fine sheen of morning dew. The night had undoubtedly been cool – it was still spring – but their passion had kept them warm even after the fire of contact had ebbed. It was only now, moments before sunrise, that Ikkaku felt the damp bite of the cold.

"Are you asleep?" he whispered.

"No," Yumichika answered. "I haven't been able to sleep all night."

Ikkaku rubbed a comforting hand over Yumichika's shoulder. "It's almost morning."

"I know."

Yumichika's aggrieved voice threatened Ikkaku's resolve, seeking to unravel it; but then Ikkaku could not expect Yumichika to make it easy for him.

"It's time for me to go."

Yumichika drew in a deep, lingering breath, as if, by taking in Ikkaku's scent, he could somehow lock his presence forever in his mind. He let the breath go in a long sigh of defeat. He'd given up pleading and demanding many hours ago. Ikkaku was set on his course, and it was clear Yumichika would not be able to stop him or go with him. He had at least convinced him to stay until morning in the hopes that he would change his mind. But that had not happened.

Yumichika pushed up on one arm. "Will you come back to the cottage first? I can pack you a bag." It was the only thing he could think of to say, his senses grown numb from sorrow.

"No, that's okay," Ikkaku replied. "I'll leave straight from here. You know I'll be fine."

"Where will you go?"

"I'm not sure. But if my father asks, tell him I headed south," Ikkaku replied. "That's the one direction I definitely will not take."

Yumichika nodded and averted his eyes.

"Yumichika," Ikkaku began, getting to his feet and drawing Yumichika up with him. "I have to do this . . . I have to try and make sure you're safe—"

"I understand," Yumichika replied, although he honestly did not understand it all. "You've said all this already."

"I don't want you to be angry," Ikkaku explained. "I don't want you to hate me."

"I don't hate you," Yumichika replied. "And I'm not angry. I'm unhappy."

Ikkaku frowned. He had never expected the day to come when he would want and accept someone else's caring for him. He had come so far and changed so much. He had come to Soul Society thinking only of himself, and even then, he'd not held his own life in much esteem. The idea of risking his life for someone else would never have been a consideration, although he would have willingly thrown away his life in any pointless confrontation that presented itself.

And now, here he was, ready to put aside everything he had come to value in order to protect someone else.

"It's hard for me, too. But I have to do the right thing here."

Yumichika gave a resolute nod and picked up Ikkaku's clothes from the ground. "Then I'll trust your judgment. Even though I don't like it, I'll do as you ask."

"You'll see it's the best decision," Ikkaku said, putting on his kosode.

"So . . . how long is a while?" Yumichika sought reassurance.

"I don't know. We both have to play it by ear." He finished dressing. "You'll tell Yenset I had to go away?"

"I'll tell him. I'll make up something."

"And you'll avoid my father?" Ikkaku pressed.

"I will."

Ikkaku took hold of him once more and kissed his mouth with brief intensity.

He left without another word.

* * *

><p>The walk back up mountain was the longest Yumichika had ever known. And it was the first time since coming to Venla that the prospect of returning to the cottage did not give him a sense of joy and peace.<p>

There could be no joy, no peace until Ikkaku returned. Without him, everything lost its vibrancy. The morning, exceptionally clear and beautiful, was dull and listless. The woods through which he was walking, the woods that had always brought him such pleasure, now only appeared as a dark labyrinth stretching away kilometer after kilometer and leading nowhere. And the sounds of the birds served only to mock him with their bright chatter.

How had things fallen apart so quickly? Yesterday, he had set out on a quest to find answers. What he'd found had only raised more questions and answered none. He had been horrified to find Ikkaku with Pakkay, but in the next moment, he'd been willing to forget all of that. The thrill of making love with Ikkaku had easily trumped all other considerations.

But then, something had happened. Something had gone wrong. Ikkaku had held back. He'd made it clear that he was only willing to go so far and that he no intention of going beyond that point. That he was still _pure_, for lack of a better word, was incomprehensible to Yumichika. Ikkaku was a man of passion and action. He was handsome and strong and commanding. How was it possible that he'd never exercised the fullness of his manhood? He'd been going at it with Pakkay. Was it true that they'd never gotten around to the deed? Had Yumichika shown up and averted the act, or had Ikkaku never intended to follow through to the only sensible conclusion?

Yumichika was approaching the cottage.

"_He doesn't want to have sex with me," _he said to himself, still unable to believe it. _"He wants everything that leads up to it, but he doesn't want sex." _It occurred to him suddenly. _"He's just like Ruri'iro Kujaku. He won't do it because . . . he's afraid it will affect our relationship."_

Could that be it? Was Ikkaku afraid of damaging their relationship? That didn't seem likely. After all, given the intimacy they had already shared, wasn't that enough to send things for a turn? Would going to the next step have made any difference?

Apparently, in Ikkaku's mind, it would have. Yumichika could not understand why.

He came to the meadow, but instead of going inside, he flopped down into the grass. There might yet be one being who could give him some of the answers he sought.

He entered his inner world only to find the maroon room empty. He closed his eyes and concentrated a moment, then he headed for the temple.

He found Ruri'iro Kujaku standing beside the flower mosaic, and he could feel the despair in the zanpakuto's riatsu.

"Ruri'iro Kujaku?"

The reikon acknowledged him with a barely visible turn of his head.

Yumichika walked over slowly. "Why are you in here?"

"This is where you first manifested me into my sword form," came the reply, spoken softly and with the tenor of a lament.

"I remember," Yumichika said. "So, why are you in here?"

"A better question would be why are _you_ here?" Ruri'iro asked.

Yumichika hesitated. "You know what's happened."

"You mean you losing control of your riastsu in front of Madarame and Pakkay? Or do you mean when you and Madarame started rolling around on the ground?" He turned to face his master. "Or maybe you're referring to Madarame using me to kill that farmhand."

Yumichika was stunned. "What?"

"Even the thought of it sickens me."

"Ruri'iro Kujaku, tell me what happened!"

"I've already told you—"

Yumichika was in no mood for the peacock's surliness. He grabbed Ruri'iro's arm and yanked him around. "Stop acting like this. I'm here because I need you. If you don't want to help me, just say so. Just say so, and I'll leave."

Ruri'iro Kujaku set his shoulders and rose to his full height. "You were so out of control, you didn't even have the presence of mind to block me out. For which, I suppose I should be grateful. Otherwise, I may never have known what was really going on in your mind, the depths to which you've—"

"You said Ikkaku used you to kill Pakkay—"

"While you were unconscious. I couldn't see outside, but I know—I know when I'm being used. I could feel myself plunging through that man's body. And I knew I was in Madarame's hand," Ruri'iro stated. the disgust plain in his voice and in the shimmering light surrounding him.

"But Ikkaku couldn't—he didn't release you, did he? He can't. Only I can do that." Yumichika sounded worried and anxious.

"He used me in my sword form." Ruri'iro replied. "But that's not the point. The point is that he never should have used me to begin with. If you hadn't gone rushing out there, ignoring my warnings, none of this would have happened."

"I didn't—"

"And then, to make matters worse, you let that brute put his mouth and his hands all over you," Ruri'iro went on, his voice containing both anger and bitterness. "And the only thing that stopped him from taking you all the way was his own cowardice."

"It wasn't cowardice," Yumichika shot back. "Even I could sense that. There's something else there, but I don't know—"

"It was cowardice. The same cowardice that caused him to run off and leave you because things had gotten a little complicated. And he's the one who complicated them!" Ruri'iro Kujaku asserted. "I would never leave you like that, master."

Yumichika sighed, the wind trailing out of his sails. "I know you wouldn't," he conceded. "But you're refusing to see that things aren't as simple as you'd like them to be. I know how you feel about Ikkaku. You're probably glad that he's left."

Ruri'iro Kujaku huffed and turned away with a flourish of his glittering wings, but he said nothing, which was confirmation of what Yumichika already knew.

Yumichika walked over and moved to stand in front of him. "But whatever you feel, I need some answers."

"Like what? How to woo him into your bed? Huh! You don't need my help with that. You're more than capable of handling that on your own. You did it for years without my help," the kujaku replied, his choice of words purposefully abrasive.

Yumichika had neither the strength nor the desire to respond in kind. He knew how jealous Ruri'iro Kujaku was and how hard the events of the previous day must have hit him, so he decided to stick to his purpose and not provoke the peacock.

"What happened to me yesterday? What was that glow coming from my body?"

"It was your riatsu," Ruri'iro snipped.

"But why was it—why could we see it out there?" Yumichika asked.

Ruri'iro Kujaku tossed his head. "What, did you think it was visible only in here?"

"But I've never seen it in the outside world before."

Ruri'iro Kujaku was silent and aloof. And it was a dead giveaway. He knew something.

"Why was I only able to see it for the first time yesterday?" Yumichika persisted. "What was different?"

"What was different?" Ruri'iro asked, as if the answer were obvious. "Your riatsu has grown very powerful, and yesterday you were angry enough that you couldn't control it. Once your emotions started getting the better of you, you lost the steadiness needed to manage your riatsu."

"But you could have reined it in," Yumichika pointed out. "You've subdued my riatsu before."

"I didn't want to," Ruri'iro replied.

"Why not?"

Ruri'iro Kujaku was smug. He shrugged his shoulders and said nothing.

"You were hoping I'd get angry enough to release you," Yumichika said, a knowing inflection in his voice that bordered on accusation.

"Maybe." Ruri'iro strode over to one of the temple's great windows and leaped up to perch on the sill. "You almost did. If that fool hadn't knocked you out, you would have."

"And then I'd have to explain you to Ikkaku, he'd find out about you being a zanpakuto and kido-based, and he'd leave," Yumichika finished the story. "That was what you wanted to happen, wasn't it?"

"He left anyway," Ruri'iro pointed out. "He left because he's a coward who can't handle all you have to give, and he couldn't bear the thought of you pursuing him relentlessly."

"He left because of his father," Yumichika corrected.

"If his father were the real issue, he would have left a long time ago," Ruri'iro countered.

"You can't say that," Yumichika argued. "You didn't see and hear everything that's gone on for the past eighteen years—"

"Who's fault is that?"

"It's no one's fault. It was necessary to keep you from overwhelming my entire life," Yumichika said with a scowl. "But none of that matters. I want to know . . . without your help to subdue it, would my riatsu be visible like that any time I get angry or upset?"

"Or with any powerful emotion," Ruri'iro added.

Yumichika considered for a moment. "But I didn't see it when Ikkaku and I were—when we were—"

"When you were pawing each other like animals? Of course not. There was no emotion there. Only lust and raw sexual desire." Again, the kujaku's manner was derisive and condescending.

"That's not true," Yumichika stated emphatically. "You were suppressing it then, weren't you? That's the real reason Ikkaku stopped, isn't it?"

Ruri'iro Kujaku shook his head and laughed in disbelief. "You heard the words right from his own mouth. He didn't want to have sex with you. Do you now accuse me of controlling him and his desires? One second you accuse me of not subduing your riatsu; the next you accuse of me suppressing it?""

"Then tell me why. Why would he go that far and then stop?"

"How should I know?"

Yumichika grit his teeth. "Because it's the same thing you do."

"You already know why I do it," Ruri'iro said.

"You said it's because it would hurt our relationship. But how? How would it hurt us to—to be more intimate?"

"Because I am your servant, master," the reikon began. "But I am also responsible for training you in the right way to use your power and mine."

"How would being my lover interfere with that?" Yumichika was persistent.

Ruri'iro alit from the window and swooped back down to stand before his master. "I already _am_ your lover, kimi. Don't you see that?" His voice was imploring.

"Only to a certain degree—"

"The greatest degree." Ruri'iro sighed, but he could not fault his master for being so dense, although he had never thought he was that shallow. "Is the deepest love you can imagine only one that involves your body? Did your life in Mito leave you so blind? All these years, I thought you were growing in wisdom. I see now, you are still only a child."

"Don't patronize me—"

"I'm not." Ruri'iro stepped forward and extended a hand, radiant with light and color. "I'm trying to teach you the most important lesson. The most beautiful thing a soul can do is to love without any hope or expectation of return. If I love you only when you give your body to me, then my love was not worth having."

Yumichika stared at him with a sense of wonder, although he considered that he should not be surprised at the reikon's words. In all their years together, there had been times when each had treated the other poorly. And yet, Yumichika knew, for all the jealousy, all the disappointments, all the frustrations, Ruri'iro Kujaku was devoted to him. And it was, in fact, a devotion that did not rely on any kind of sexual interaction. Whatever physical closeness they had shared, it had been nothing more than a boon, not a necessity.

Ruri'iro Kujaku _was_ Yumichika's most tremendous lover.

And still, questions remained.

"I understand," Yumichika said. "But I—I don't think that's what was on Ikkaku's mind when he decided to stop. I mean, if what he told me is true, that means he's never had sex."

"And this surprises you because?"

"Because . . . " Yumichika was caught short for words.

"Because it was so commonplace in your own life?"

Yumichika winced.

"Kimi," Ruri'iro went on. "Madarame has his own reasons, and the only way you'll ever know them is if he tells you."

"He told me I was wrong to want to have sex with him." Yumichika's voice was plaintive.

But Ruri'iro Kujaku was not sympathetic. "Maybe you were. Again, he is the only one who can explain the meaning of his own words. And you will have to wait for him to return to get your answers."

A deep frown crossed Yumichika's face. He would have to wait for _a while_.

* * *

><p>The morning was bright and still. The kind of late summer morning that had dawned since Ikkaku's departure three months ago.<p>

_It's just for a while._

How long was _just a while_?

Yumichika had honestly expected Ikkaku's return at the end of the second month and he'd prepared appropriately with food and drink. The time came and went with no Ikkaku. Another week passed. Then another. Yumichika was reaching the point where he normally would have felt compelled to go out searching for him.

But this time was different, and Yumichika knew it instrinsically. Ikkaku's failure to return had nothing to do with injury or defeat. Ikkaku was not back because he did not want to be back.

How much longer he would remain away was a question Yumichika could not answer or even guess at. All his previous suppositions on the matter had been mistaken.

Ikkaku's longer-than-expected absence, of course, did not surprise Ruri'iro Kujaku, who maintained that his master's miscalculations about Ikkaku's return were only a continuation of the same blindness that had befallen him whenever Madarame was concerned.

Still, the kujaku found great joy during the first month after Ikkaku's departure, for Yumichika returned to him with greater attention and frequency. They spent the days training and playing together in both the outside and the inner worlds. And when his master sought him out for the sole purpose of lying beside him, Ruri'iro Kujaku could not have asked for anything more. Things were as they had once been, even though Ruri'iro could tell that Yumichika was lonesome for Ikkaku.

But all that had changed after the first two months, for when Ikkaku's return became questionable, Yumichika's attention shifted its focus, leaving Ruri'iro Kujaku once gain neglected and disheartened, which, after the joyful togetherness of the past two months, came as a dreadful loss.

As August moved into September with its cooler days and temperamental rains, Yumichika decided he'd had enough of waiting. He was determined to set out on his search before the first snowfall. And this he had to keep secret from Ruri'iro Kujaku as long as possible, for such news would not be well received.

But there were a few things he needed to know before setting out.

In the three months since Ikkaku had left, Yumichika had ventured into the village but rarely. He'd gone down early on to let Yenset know that Ikkaku would be away from work for several weeks. He made up a vague excuse about needing to tend to business elsewhere, and Yenset, in his kindness, accepted this and asked no questions.

The discovery of Pakkay's body had been, as Ikkaku predicted, largely ignored. The farmhand had not been well-liked to begin with; and the man with the closest connection to him, Totui, had made it clear he wanted no part of the disposition of the remains. There had been some talk, some speculation about the coinciding of Pakkay's demise and Ikkaku's departure. But no one had made much of the matter.

Yumichika went down to the village no more than once a week, sometimes less. He was received with the same warmth he had always been. Polite inquiries were made after Ikkaku, and in light of his absence, offers of assistance were readily given to Yumichika on matters ranging from helping with the garden to preparing the cottage for winter.

Yumichika had not seen Totui during any of his to the village, which struck him as odd, considering how often he had run into him before. He had assurance from the villagers that Totui was still living in the valley, but the entire summer passed without any contact.

But today would be different.

Yumichika stepped out early. It was Thursday. He expected he could find Totui at his home, and so he set off down the mountain on a foggy morning, where the trees seemed to materialize out of the mist and disappear again just as stealthily. The forest felt close and secretive, which suited Yumichika's mood just fine.

He came to the crossroads where the fog was even thicker and started up the valley. As he approached Totui's farm, a sense of forboding came over him. He suddenly dreaded the idea of seeing the man. He might be forced to admit that Ikkaku had been right, that Totui's only purpose in interacting with him had been to find a way to get to his son. He wasn't ready to believe it, but he was now seeing it as an outside possibility, at least.

Yumichika found Totui outside, looking over the stone fences that lined his property where it met the roadway.

Totui only noticed Yumichika's approach at the last moment, the fog having obscured his view.

"Yumichika-kun. What brings you into my valley?"

Yumichika was cordial. "There are some things I wanted to ask you, and since I haven't seen you in town the past few months, I thought I'd come up the valley to see if I could catch you."

Totui abandoned his inspection of the fences and regarded Yumichika with interest. "Sounds intriguing. Go ahead. Ask whatever you like."

"I want to know what happened between you and Ikkaku," Yumichika replied. "I want to know why he hates you so much."

Totui raised an eyebrow. "This is unexpected. Why are you bringing this up now?"

"I just want to know," Yumcihika said.

"If you want an answer, why not ask Ikkaku?"

"You know he's gone away. And even if I did ask him, he wouldn't tell me," he replied honestly.

Totui regarded Yumichika with a look of completely fabricated innocence. It was the first time Yumichika had noticed any hint of falseness in the man. "If Ikkaku won't tell you, it doesn't seem right for me to do so. I wouldn't want to betray my son's privacy."

Yumichika narrowed his gaze. "I don't think you care about Ikkaku's privacy. You had no trouble talking to me about Ikkaku before," he stated. "Are you playing games with me?"

A shadow of a smile crossed Totui's face. "That sounds like Ikkaku talking." He paused, his manner still pleasant. "Maybe I am playing games, but I have information you want, so you may just have to indulge me and my games a little bit."

Yumichika was stunned at the difference in Totui's demeanor. While all outward appearances pointed to a jovial, accommodating soul, the tone and manner of his words were indication of an interior disposition quite at odds with the outside image.

"I assume you want to know why Ikkaku really left," Totui supposed. "You think it's because of me."

"I think you have something to do with it," Yumichika answered. "Ever since you came here, he's gone back to being angry, sullen and more violent—"

"Yes, I saw that even you weren't immune to his temper."

"He's changed ever since you arrived—"

Totui leaned back against the wall. "He's just the same as he always was."

"Maybe when you knew him," Yumichika replied. "But he had become someone else over the past twenty years."

"Someone he was never meant to be, apparently," Totui replied. "And if you want to know the truth: he didn't leave because of me. He left because of you."

Yumichika was not going to be so easily duped. "That's not true. Things were fine until you showed up. That's when everything began to change."

"He left to protect you." Totui's spoke with distinction and certainty.

Yumichika noted that Totui was echoing exactly what Ikkaku had said.

"To protect me from what?"

Totui crossed his arms, and a strange, self-satisfied grin spread over his face. "Me," he said, sounding proud. He paused a moment before going on. "You know, what is it they say about all beauty and no brains? That would be you, little pretty. You're as stupid as you are stunning. As naïve as you are beautiful. I'm sure Ikkaku warned you about me. You should have listened to him." He chuckled. "I'm surprised Ikkaku was able to land a pretty thing like you, but then I guess beauty is attracted to beauty. Still, I would have thought that Ikkaku's hatred would make him unattractive to everyone. I taught him that hatred, you know? Yes, I did. I wanted to make him as despicable to everyone else as he was to me."

"What?" Yumichika could not believe what he was hearing.

"You came here looking for answers. Well, let me tell you a story instead," Totui began with a distasteful sneer in his voice and a wry smile on his lips. "Ikkaku is the only child I ever had. The only child – and not with my wife. Honor dictated that I acknowledge him as my son, and so I did. But my wife hated the sight of him – and so did I. He was beautiful and strong and everything a man would want in a son – all from the stock of a common piece of trash . . . . when a woman of noble descent could give me nothing, not even daughters." While the smile remained on his face, his voice was slowly turning from a tone of smug superiority to one of anger and vitriol. "The whore who bore him abandoned him to me and was never seen again. So once more, I did the noble thing and took responsibility. I made sure he was fed and clothed and educated. I did what was required of me, but it did no good. My standing in the township was destroyed by the scandal of a bastard son." Now, even the smile disintegrated. "But Ikkaku . . . he was the glad recipient of all manner of kindness. While my standing crumbled, he was welcomed and treated by the townspeople with compassion and understanding." Rage flared suddenly in his eyes. "Is that fair? Is it fair that I faced rejection and my son was treated as if he were something special? I worked for years to build a life and reputation, and his mere existence tore all that down! And so I swore to myself that I would repay him for the damage he had inflicted on me. I would tear apart anything he built, including his friendships, just as he had torn down everything in my life! I would teach him to be as hateful and distrusting and spiteful as I was!" He drew in a deep breath, his body trembling with the force of his words. "And I succeeded. Even when he was still a small boy, his soul was ruined. The seed I had planted sprouted and grew so quickly and wildly, it overtook every other thought and sentiment a little child could have." He faced Yumichika with a strange, smug gleam in his eye. "He grew up a monster, and he died a monster."

Yumichika was silent. It was too much for him to take in at once. He could hardly believe this was the same Totui Madarame he had known all this time.

But Totui was not speechless. He walked towards Yumichika. "Now, you have your answer. Now you know why he left. So, what will you do?"

Yumichika stood his ground. "You're horrid," he said in a whisper.

Totui was cold. "I guess I am, and I taught my son to be just like me."

"But he's not like you." Yumichika's voice wavered, but it contained conviction. "He's nothing like you."

"We'll see if you're still saying that when he doesn't come back," Totui replied.

"He'll come back," Yumichika scowled, even though he had already admitted to himself that the opposite was, in fact, the truth.

"Believe that, if it gives you hope," Totui shrugged. He regarded Yumichika with delving eyes. "You're so devoted to him . . . you'd be a tough one to turn."

When Yumichika did not speak, Totui offered explanation without prompting. He was enjoying the moment too much to let any opportunity slip by.

"Remember when I told you I thought you were the only friend he'd ever had?" Totui asked the question as a statement. "I know in the world of the living, he had no friends. Any time he began a relationship, I made sure it came to a quick end. I don't know what his life has been like here in Soul Society, except that it's been violent. But it doesn't matter. The one thing I do know is that you mean more to him than anyone ever has." He paused, and his face darkened. "He knew you were my next target." He circled around him, leaning close to whisper into his ear. "If I could sow a few seeds of distrust. A few carefully placed words. A slight manipulation of events. I could fool you into thinking all kinds of things. And with Pakkay's help, it was a piece of cake. For a pittance, he did whatever I asked him."

Yumichika turned to face him. "Ikkaku was right. It was you all along trying to make us distrust each other. It was you using Pakkay to try and come between us."

"It was me," Totui confirmed. "I could breed distrust in you, and Ikkaku would know it was my doing. To protect you, he would leave. I knew how it would be all along. And once he was away from you, forced to flee, he would come to the same conclusion he came to in the world of the living every time I sundered one of his relationships: attachments are mistakes, opportunities for weakness and exploitation." He reached out and put a finger beneath Yumichika's chin. "He will grow to hate you for having forced this pain upon him."

Yumichika stepped back away from his touch. His eyes were burning with fury. "It's you he'll hate."

Totui laughed. "He already hates me. If he hadn't been so fond of you, I couldn't have hurt him. He knows that."

"You're—you're pure evil," Yumichika stammered.

"No," Totui disagreed. "I'm someone who carries a grudge. I carried it through life, and it didn't leave me when I came to Soul Society. It followed me. And it drove me every step of the way once I got here. What? Do you think it was a coincidence that I settled here?" He approached again. "Since coming to Soul Society, I've spent every day looking for him. I'd get so close. His appearance and his violent nature made him easy to track. I could describe him and people would know right away who I was talking about. I'd be on the verge of finding him, and then he'd slip away. I often wondered if he somehow knew I was tracking him, but of course, he wasn't that smart. He was just lucky." He leaned in to speak in a succinct voice. "And then one day, I tracked him to a picturesque village on the sea to the south of here. They knew all about him there. They told me you were his lover. And they told me what kind of . . . man you were."

Yumichika swallowed.

"They told me a lot of things." His voice dripped with insinuation. "And then they said that one day, you and Ikkaku just disappeared. It took me years to pick up the trail again. But what are years when you have all of eternity in Soul Society? If it took all of eternity, I was going to find him – and make him suffer . . . for all eternity."

"You—you're blaming Ikkaku for the fact that he was even born—"

"And why not?" Totui erupted into unexpected fury. The spittle flew from his lips, his vein pounded in his temple, his skin burned red. "He wasn't wanted! I didn't want him! His own bitch of a mother didn't want him! No one wanted him!" His voice became sarcastic and bitter. "But bringing him into this world was the right thing to do! Isn't that what everyone said? Don't take a life! Don't take an innocent life! What the hell about _my_ life? What the hell about what I wanted? What I needed? No! I did what everyone told me and that very act of kindness destroyed my life!"

Yumichika was shaking his head in horror and disbelief. "Kindness?" he said, his voice sounding like an echo inside his head. He began backing away. "If letting him live was an act of kindness, what would killing him have been?"

"An act of reason!"

The hatred in Totui's soul was boiling over, and Yumichika could not help but feel afraid of the man.

Totui went on his rampage. "If he'd never been born, he wouldn't have had to deal with the truth of no one loving him or wanting him! He would never have turned into such a hateful man! Is a miserable life better than no life at all?"

His words hit Yumichika hard. They were the same words people in the world of the living had used to try and convince his parents, even after he'd been born, that his life of illness and deformation was an undue burden on them and unfair to him. They lamented that a poor child should have to suffer because his parents had not made the difficult decision.

"You tell me," Yumichika ground out. "You're the one who's miserable. Ikkaku might have been angry when I met him, but he's changed. But you . . . you're miserable, and you want to drag others down into misery with you." He turned to leave.

"Yumichika-kun?"

Yumichika did not stop. There was nothing more he wanted to hear from this man, and the use of the familiar term made him feel physically ill.

Totui called out after him. "When he doesn't come back, I'll still be here!"

* * *

><p>"Ruri'iro Kujaku!"<p>

Yumichika had barely made it past the tree line on his trek back up the mountain when he could no longer contain himself.

"Ruri'iro Kujaku!" he called out again. "Come out!"

The colors around him began to change, casting the fog in hues that he might have otherwise found tantalizing. But not this time.

Ruri'iro Kujaku materialized in front of him. He could see immediately that something had distressed his master. "What's wrong, kimi?"

"We're leaving," Yumichika stated.

"Leaving?"

"Yes, we're leaving Venla and going to find Ikkaku," came the hurried explanation.

"To find . . . master, that's crazy," Ruri'iro Kujaku protested. "He's been gone for months. He could be hundreds of kilometers away. How do you ever hope to find him?"

"I don't know, but if I can get even the smallest hint of his riatsu, that will be a start," Yumichika replied.

"Master, I know you can sense Madarame's spiritual pressure but not across such great distances," Ruri'iro appealed. "This search you are proposing has no chance of succeeding."

"It will if you help me," Yumichika replied. "Your power is much greater than mine, and if you lend me that power – if we combine both of our abilities, we'll be able to find him."

This was all too much for the azure peacock to take in at once. "My power—my power does not lie in searching out others' riatsu—"

"Yes, it does. You're better able than anyone to detect riatsu." Yumichika insisted. "I know you can do it."

"Y-yes, but I—"

"You can feel Ikkaku's riatsu just as well as I can, if not better. I need you to give me your ability," Yumichika pressed.

Ruri'iro Kujaku stared at him in disbelief. At last, he spoke the truth that was on his mind. "But I don't want to find him. I'm happier this way."

"I know you are, but surely you've been able to see that I'm not," Yumichika chastised. "Do you like seeing me worried and alone—"

"You were never alone," Ruri'iro reminded him. "And don't try to guilt me into doing this. Instead of pining away over Madarame, why don't you try to recover the joy that we used to have in each other?"

Yumichika was not in the mood for this, nor did he plan to waste another second dawdling. "If you won't help me, then I'll do it on my own. I can't take and use your power at will, so I'll manage as best as I can. Don't forget, though, you have no choice but to accompany me, so if you let me wander aimlessly for months, and I grow more and more bitter and angry, you'll be there to suffer through the whole thing . . . Fuji Kujaku."

Ruri'iro Kujaku felt the competing emotions of sadness and anger. His master had not called him by that name since Madarame had left. The two of them had been getting along well in his absence. Had that only been because of the expectation of his return?

Ruri'iro had seen and heard all that had just happened with Totui, but he hadn't imagined it would prompt his master to do something this foolish. He couldn't possibly really hope to find Madarame. And even more incredible, how could he think that Ruri'iro Kujaku would want to have part in helping him? It was becoming clear to the reikon that he wasn't at risk of losing Yumichika; he had already lost him. And he had lost him to a man whose only worth lay in being someone Ruri'iro Kujaku could despise. Whatever good Madarame had done for Yumichika, it had come at a price; and that price was now obvious. Ruri'iro Kujaku was what Yumichika had to give up in order to have Ikkaku.

The angry peacock retreated back into his world.

"_Very well, then" _he said to the silence, _"I may have to go with you, but I don't have to help you. I'll show you what it's like to not have me at all."_

They were bold words, heated words. And they were absolutely impossible for him to keep.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24 Separate Journeys

_Where is the Eden that you've dreamed of?  
><em>_How many thoughts have you denied?  
><em>_Then you can say that you are lonely.  
><em>_Forever to be alone._

_Forever to Be Alone  
><em>Justin Hayward

Yumichika left the meadow above Venla the following morning. He told no one. They would figure it out, and what did it matter anyway? Nothing they could say would stop him from going, and there was a chance that he may never come back. As much as he had loved the village and its people, they could not compete with what he felt for Ikkaku; and he had no regrets or trepidation as he set out in the coldness just before dawn.

The night had been cool enough to once again cast the mountain in fog, but that was of little concern to Yumichika. He had clarity of purpose, and that was enough. Instead of heading down towards the village, he headed up and over the mountaintop, making limited use of the speed movement in the dense mist. But reaching the summit, he came above the cloud line to discover the sun just peeking above the horizon. But even here there no brilliant colors to brighten the sky. It was a dull, gray thing with no discernible beginning or end – this wakening of the morning; and it matched Yumichika's mood perfectly.

He wanted no excitement, no contention – only the single-minded focus of his task, undertaken with absolutely no idea where to begin. No distractions, no emotion to fuel poor decisions. He had only his intuition and instincts to rely upon at the moment, and these were poor company. Wherever Ikkaku was, he was too far away for Yumichika to sense even a trace of his riatsu. Soul Society was a large place. The possibilities of where he had gone were overwhelming.

Ultimately, Yumichika chose north for no other reason than that Mito was to the south, and Ikkaku definitely had not headed there. East and west were discounted because they were not the opposite of south. It was nonsensical, but that did not matter. He had to head in some direction, and north felt right.

But after weeks and then months without any indication, any lingering particle of Ikkaku's riatsu, he began to question his choice of direction and despair of success in his endeavor.

Three months passed. During those months, he'd not spoken to Ruri'iro Kujaku once. He'd not detected any attempt on the reikon's part to enter his thoughts or push his way into his consciousness. He was well aware of Ruri'iro's presence, but the zanpakuto had stayed silent.

Yumichika attributed this behavior to Ruri'iro's penchant for sulking, but the reason behind his silence did not matter. If sulking kept the peacock from pushing and scrabbling for attention – or as Ruri'iro Kujaku called it, freedom – then Yumichika had no cause for complaint. The only thing he did begrudge the kujaku was his refusal to lend his power. That alone was enough to keep his ire at such a level that he was happy not to have any interaction with him. He was quite sure the stubborn bird was reveling in his obstinacy, indulging his sulk with great relish, and rejoicing that Ikkaku seemed to be out of his master's life for good and all.

Yumichika's own refusal to even communicate with Ruri'iro Kujaku separated him from the truth, which was quite different from that which he had concocted in his own mind.

Ruri'iro Kujaku had held steadfastly to his vow of withholding for barely the first week. But as it became clear to him that he could not withhold something that was not being sought, he was forced to accept the fact that his master was not even thinking about him, much less desiring his company. His curmudgeonly demeanor fell away quickly into sadness and then despondency.

It was not a matter of pure loneliness. It was a pining for the one being he loved.

Nothing was worth such separation. At least, when Madarame had been around, Ruri'iro had still been able to spend some time with his master. Now, his master was purposefully shutting him out. And he hated it. Yet, Yumichika was blocking all his attempts to even communicate. To be sure, Ruri'iro Kujaku knew he could easily overcome his master's defenses. His powers were vastly beyond Yumichika's ability to resist. The only thing stopping him from bursting his way into Yumichika's mind and forcing access to the outside world was the love he felt for him – and the fear that such an action would drive his master to an eternal hatred of him.

But as the months passed and Ruri'iro Kujaku became more and more desperate for his master's touch, the sound of his voice, he conceded that he could not go on this way any longer. Separation from Yumichika was a living death for him, and he could not abide it.

He did not know how much longer he could hold out.

* * *

><p>Ikkaku awoke with a chill.<p>

Opening his eyes, he was surprised to see that frost had formed on the ground below him. He'd not expected it to get that cold in the night, especially given the unseasonably warm November day that had preceded it.

He stretched and dropped down out of the tree in which he'd spent the night. The hour was barely past sunrise, but such early awakenings had long ceased to rankle him. It was owing to Yumichika's dawn routine that Ikkaku could no longer sleep half the day.

A frown deepened the creases on Ikkaku's forehead.

Why? Why did every day start out with thoughts of Yumichika? Why did every day close with thoughts of him? Why did all the hours between sunrise and sunset abound with reminders that consistently turned Ikkaku's thoughts towards him? He was not too ashamed to admit to himself that he missed Yumichika. Nearly seven months had passed since he'd left the meadow above Venla. Seven months of questioning and self-doubt, guilt and anger at what he'd been forced to give up. And yet, he had maintained a steadfast determination not to go back, not to succumb to a loneliness that only Yumichika could abate.

The truth was, he had never intended to go back. He'd meant it when he'd told Yumichika that he would protect him at all costs. The cost was becoming glaringly apparent. Ikkaku had sworn long ago to Yumichika –and to himself – that he would never allow Yumichika to be hurt again; but by not going back, he knew that he was doing the very thing he had sworn he would never let happen again. He had no doubt that as soon as Yumichika had realized he wasn't coming back, he'd been devastated. The conjured image of him standing at the door of the cottage every day and every evening, looking across the meadow, waiting for Ikkaku to return, then going to bed worried and unhappy . . . it barged in on his thoughts often.

But still, he stood his ground. His self-imposed separation was incalculably preferable to seeing Yumichika choose against him, and that had been his father's intent all along. His father had honed directly in on his relationship with Yumichika and immediately set about destroying it. But this time Ikkaku beat him to the punch. He had destroyed it himself. And he hated himself for it – almost as much as he hated his father. Yes, he had done it for what he considered noble reasons, but he may have inflicted an injury that could not be undone. He'd betrayed Yumichika's trust, the most valuable possession he'd ever had.

And it was not only Yumichika he had hurt.

His own heart had taken a serious hit in this battle. It was a pain he'd felt before, but over which he'd spent years building up callous upon callous. When he'd arrived in Soul Society, he'd been able to withstand anything.

Almost anything. He hadn't counted on someone like Yumichika, a soul with enough patience to slowly peel away the layers, revealing the tender core beneath. But such an opening had not been without its risks. It had left Ikkaku exposed and vulnerable once again to the idea that affection was not so rare and the hope that he might even be its recipient. A hope that had been interrupted.

_Why did I ever let my guard down? How did I ever let myself end up caring so much about him? It never fails . . . it doesn't matter that I'm in Soul Society now. I should have known my father would find me. Why did I think things could be different?_

He began walking across the frosted ankle-high grass that stood between the dirt road and the tree where he'd spent the night. He had no destination in mind, no direction. He was walking simply to be walking. He had ceased, after the first night, to be amazed at how easily he'd fallen back into his old ways. Being a vagrant came readily to him just as it had before. All his years with Yumichika had not made him as incapable as he'd feared. Foraging for food, sleeping in whatever sheltered place he could find, scrounging for a piece of clothing here and there – he knew these things intrinsically. They had formed the backdrop to his first sixty years in Soul Society, before he'd met Yumichika. And while it was true that the comforts Yumichika had provided might have lulled him into a life of ease, the past seven months had also made it clear that he had never lost his ability to rough it. The niceties of life with Yumichika never even entered his thoughts, although Yumichika often did.

Still, even the persistent recollection of Yumichika's serene countenance could not curb the other aspect of his previous life that had re-emerged with even greater force than ever before. The urge to fight was irrepressible. Fueled by the resurgence of anger and a sense of injustice, it had become uncontrollable, a monster without restraint. He had tried early on to quell the impulse, but it was useless. After the first month, he had ceased to even try. It was easier to give in.

Doubtless Yumichika would have browbeaten him relentlessly had he been there to see to what depths Ikkaku's behavior had descended. He'd have been horrified at the Ikkaku's slovenly appearance: the blood- and dirt-stained garb, the grime on his face and body, the appearance of a scowl so deep and hateful that it seemed permanently etched in his face. He was truly a scoundrel again – a miscreant, a loner. It fit him like a comfortable old coat – and he needed something comfortable. He needed something to take his mind off his misery and give him a sense of purpose.

Or if not purpose, at least something to do. Idleness was his enemy.

* * *

><p>"<em>It's not good for a man to be idle. Especially a young man. A young man with nothing to do finds trouble. And trouble finds him."<em>

_Ikkaku dared not raise his eyes to the man speaking. That would be seen as a challenge, and Ikkaku had too much respect for this man to challenge him. In fact, he might be the only man Ikkaku did not regard with disdain._

_Still, the man's next words surprised him._

"_You should look at a man when he is speaking to you. It's disrespectful to do otherwise."_

_Ikkaku looked up in wonderment. His father had taught him the exact opposite, that a youth looking a man in the eye was brazen and a direct challenge to his authority._

_The man looking back at him did not appear to perceive any challenge or offense. His expression was benign, despite the angular harshness of his face, the starkness of the shaven head, the fiery appearance of the eyes, tattooed with red ink at the outer corners as per the order's tradition. _

"_That's better. Don't you agree?" he asked._

"_Yes, Hakama-dono,"Ikkaku answered. It was true. Looking at a man, looking into his eyes, he could see so much more than he could staring at the ground. He could perceive something of the soul – something of the goodness or the darkness that dwelled within. And in Hakama, there was only goodness._

"_Your father wants you to stay here," Hakama stated. His voice was smooth; it always made Ikkaku think of the way fine sake felt going down. "The Daisaishi doesn't think you're cut out for this life." He put a hand on Ikkaku's shoulder. "I agree with him."_

_Ikkaku maintained an impassive countenance, glancing away only for a moment before meeting Hakama's gaze once more with a steadiness born of years of disappointment._

"_You are a man of action, Ikkaku," Hakama said. "Action all the time. Here, we are a religious order of peaceful men first, and warriors only second. Contemplation for you is idleness. And when you are idle, you cause problems."_

_After a long silence, Ikkaku said, "But I like it here." The admission sounded almost like a plea._

_Hakama regarded him with a gentle grin. "Only somewhat," he corrected. "You like the refuge from your father that the monastery affords. You like the physical discipline and training. But you despise the learning of wisdom and the pursuit of the divine."_

_Ikkaku could not argue with him. It was the truth. At last, he said, "Will I be sent back to my father?"_

_Hakama did not reply right away, and when he did speak, he seemed to be choosing his words very carefully. "You are no longer a child, Ikkaku. When you leave here, it will be your own decision where you go."_

_Ikkaku sighed. "I don't have many options."_

_Hakama put an arm around his shoulders, and they began walking. "The options are endless, Ikkaku. But they will not come to you. You must go out and find them."_

"_But I have no money," Ikkaku replied. "How will I live?"_

"_There are three ways," Hakama answered. "You can find a way to earn money. You can steal what you need. Or you can live off the kindness of others. Again, the choice is yours. Not all choices are equal in dignity and virtue."_

"_When do I have to leave?" Ikkaku asked._

"_You have some time still," Hakama replied. "The Daisaishi says you should stay until winter passes. The air is grown quite cold already."_

"_Master Hakama, if I—if I improve during those months, do you think I could—could I stay?"_

_Hakama squeezed his shoulder. "Ikkaku, my son, there is no such thing as an improvement in aptitude. Only a change in heart can bring about a change in aptitude. And one cannot will a change in heart. It happens or it doesn't."_

"_If it happens, would you ask the Daisaishi if I can stay?" Ikkaku asked. "Please?" He pulled away from Hakama's embrace and walked over to stand beside a stone basin below a natural spring welling from the side of the mountain. It stood in an alcove of sorts hewn from the rock, a little shrine. The water was supposed to have healing powers. Ikkaku had never touched it before. He didn't believe in that sort of miraculous nonsense. "This is the seventh place my father has sent me," he went on in a carefully controlled voice. "And every time, they sent me back. I usually never even lasted a year."_

"_I know all this," Hakama acknowledged, sitting on a stone bench near the basin._

"_Then you know that this is the longest I've stayed in one place," Ikkaku said, turning to face him urgently. "I've managed to stay here almost a year and a half. That—that has to mean something, doesn't it?" He dropped down to his knees beside Hakama. "I'm almost seventeen years old, and I'm just now finding a place where I—I feel—where I want to stay."_

_He could see Hakama looking down at him with those penetrating eyes, and he knew his teacher was not fooled. "You know the only reason you want to stay is because you can't think of where else you would go, and you don't want to go back to your father. You like the warrior aspect of this life, but as I said . . . being a warrior is secondary to being a servant of the master. Even now, I could sense your disdain for the healing waters. You do not believe. A brother must believe."_

_A sigh of defeat escaped Ikkaku's lips. "Couldn't I stay on as . . . as help? I could farm and clean and bring water—"_

"_You are not a farmer, Ikkaku," Hakama said. "And you certainly aren't meant to clean up behind others or carry water. Look deep inside yourself and find your strengths. They are obvious to everyone else. They seem only to elude you." With that, he got to his feet and held out his hand. "Come. The sun is setting. They will soon be calling for evening prayer."_

* * *

><p>Whatever those strengths had been, as far as Ikkaku was concerned, they still remained hidden. The only thing he had discovered was his penchant and his skill for fighting. No other strengths or virtues had come to light. He could have counted his devotion to Yumichika as a strength, but where had it gotten him? Right back into a situation that was untenable.<p>

Perhaps he could claim self-sacrifice as something to be proud of. After all, he was giving up the greatest happiness he had ever known in order to keep Yumichika from harm. No. No, that was not being entirely honest. He was also protecting himself. He'd not wanted to feel the pain of loss again, and so he'd fled. It was only to salve his own feelings that he was trying to convince himself that he'd left only for Yumichika's sake. Self-preservation had also played a part.

Hadn't it?

Of course, it had. Ikkaku had long ago deemed himself incapable of pure, untainted motives. He made his decisions based on what suited him, the heat of the moment, the instincts that lay in the deepest part of his soul. And sacrifice was not among them.

He came to the road and hesitated for a moment. To his left, the road led off to the east where the sun was inching higher, casting beams of red light through the sparse wood that lay just beyond the remains of a harvested turnip field. Something in those rays of light beckoned him. The morning sun offered a chance at a new beginning.

A new beginning. What use was a new beginning without Yumichika? Ikkaku could see no purpose in it.

Until now, he'd been heading directly north, ever further towards the cold country, the barren, grey, stony wastelands of the northern districts. He had been determined to live the life of a man cut off from the rest of Soul Society, and if his hatred was all he had to comfort him, then so be it. He'd done it before.

And yet . . . the growing light in the east called to him. It reminded him of his mornings in the monastery: rising before dawn for morning prayer, reading the holy books during his lessons, and the sense of relief when the morning lesson was over and physical training began. It brought the taste of fish cakes into his mouth and the scent of _capendom_ into his nostrils. He recalled how beautiful the tiny blue and violet blooms had appeared cascading down the crags above the monastery and outside his window. He could almost hear the chanting of the brothers in the gathering square as the midday bells chimed out the call for high prayer.

It had been an idyllic life. One he could not have – not because others had denied it to him, but because he had never been able to achieve the one thing necessary to enter such a brotherhood.

An appreciation of the divine.

Never had he blamed the brothers for turning him down. How foolish would it have been to make a brother of a man who only believed in the warrior aspect of the order and not its basis: worship of the creator. Ikkaku worshipped no one and no thing. He never had. He never would. Yet, everything else that the order had entailed reached out to him through the morning's widening bands of light.

He looked to the north. Overhead, a flock of birds passed him by on their journey south, away from the frigid air overtaking their summering grounds.

Ikkaku nodded. The cold would have to wait. He was choosing the fire, instead.

He headed east.

* * *

><p>After nearly eight months of wandering through Soul Society on his quest,Yumichika had gotten quite good at finding a bed where none existed. This time it was in the nestled dryness of a thicket a good distance from the road on which he had been traveling. He had learned from Ikkaku that sleeping near any road was dangerous, and so he made sure that when he found himself between settlements as night fell, he moved well away from the road.<p>

The thicket was so thick as to be waterproof, which was good since a steady rain began to fall shortly after he had taken shelter. The ground was dry and worn smooth. Clearly, some animal or other had made this place its home at one point.

He lay down to sleep but his alert mind hovered in the twilight between wakefulness and slumber. It was in this state that his mind wandered from one incomplete thought to the next, and it was in this state, that Ruri'iro Kujaku could insert his voice without it appearing to be such a blatant intrusion.

"Master?" The voice was uncharacteristically submissive.

Yumichika was immediately aware of him. The peacock had not entered his master's mind since the start of the journey. His doing so now was not welcome.

Yumichika's response was cold. "What do you want?"

"Come to me. Please. I want to see you."

"We have no reason to see each other."

The fact that his master had not immediately closed off from him gave Ruri'iro hope, which was what he needed, given that he had decided to capitulate. "I want to talk to you."

"I have nothing to say," Yumichika replied.

"I want to help you," Ruri'iro offered. He immediately sensed a change in his master's demeanor.

"Go on." Yumichika prompted.

"I want to help you find Madarame."

"Why should I believe you?"

"If that's the only thing that will bring you back to me, then I will do it ," Ruri'iro answered. It was the truth, come by the hard way. "I miss you, kimi."

Yumichika sighed inwardly. Just when he had convinced himself of Ruri'iro Kujaku's petulant intransigence and willfulness, the reikon went and gave in, the perfect example of humility, the complete opposite of his prideful nature. It was, once again, proof of the peacock's flakiness, his inability to hold onto any one feeling, any one train of thought.

Yumichika entered his inner world to see Ruri'iro Kujaku kneeling in the center of the bed, head bowed, eyes downcast.

"Ruri'iro Kujaku."

The reikon looked up, but instead of showing pain-filled, chastened eyes, his face was glowing with joy. The return of his master, the sight of him for the first time in eight months, was more than enough to dispel the gloom and despair of those lonely days.

Yumichika understood the phenomena only too well. It was the reason he had kept such distance between them, for even a glimpse of Ruri'iro Kujaku had the power to undo all of his determination. It wasn't anything Ruri'iro did on purpose; it was simply who he was. And Yumichika knew, while he loved Ruri'iro Kujaku, he had to be wary of him. It was his own weakness that surfaced every time he laid eyes on the azure peacock.

"Master!" Ruri'iro did not rise but remained kneeling.

Yumichika approached him. He held out his hand, but to his surprise, Ruri'iro wrapped his arms around waist and hugged him.

"You're here," he said jubilantly. "You finally came back."

It was all Yumichika could do to keep his focus. "You said you were going to help me find Ikkaku."

"I am," Ruri'iro replied. "I just want to . . . " His voice trailed off, and he raised his head to see his master regarding him with an expressionless face. He noticed that Yumichika's arms hung at his sides. He was not even returning his embrace. "Master?" His voice was almost a plea. The joy drained from his riatsu like water through a crack.

"I know how easy it is to get caught up in you," Yumichika stated. "And I—I admit that I've missed that. It's been a long time, and I want to be that way with you again. But I have to stay focused. I have to find Ikkaku. If you're going to help me, do that first."

Ruri'iro tightened his embrace, his cheek pressed against the clothed flesh of Yumichika's stomach. "Do you promise that you'll spend more time in here? And that you'll let me come out more often? That things will be like they used to be?"

Yumichika actually felt a lump forming in his throat. It amazed him how his zanpakuto could be so demanding and in charge one moment and then display this sort of desperate dependency and need for approval. But then again, perhaps it was not so unusual for a zanpakuto to want its master's approval.

Yumichika had often wondered about what other zanpakutos must be like. Were they as temperamental as Ruri'iro Kujaku? Were they as present? What were their relationships like with their masters?

These thoughts now rolled around in some low plane of his mind, but the truth was that he could not imagine having any other zanpakuto. Whereas years ago, he could not have imagined even having such a weapon, now his thoughts had shifted to the idea that only Ruri'iro Kujaku was a suitable companion for him, as close to perfection as he'd ever seen. Whatever drawbacks a kido-based weapon might pose in his relationship with Ikkaku, it was something he would have to deal with and trust that Ikkaku would eventually see things differently.

He placed a hand on the back of Ruri'iro's head. "Those are a lot of demands," he said softly.

Ruri'iro pressed his cheek into the folds of the garment. "My only demand is to spend more time with you."

Yumichika nodded. "I see that now." A fond sigh escaped his lips. "You're certainly a handful, you know that?"

He knew Ruri'iro Kujaku would not answer. He was already sinking deeper into the bliss of physical contact with his master. It made Yumichika feel ashamed to think he had not realized just how much Ruri'iro needed him – not just for existence, but for companionship. And he knew it would be cruel and unkind to demand that Ruri'iro turn immediately to the task of finding Ikkaku.

Yumichika had neglected his zanpakuto for so many weeks . . .

He owed him much more than mere time together.

He owed him his love.

* * *

><p>Ikkaku sat up suddenly.<p>

What was it he had just felt? Something had reached through the veil of light sleep that had been hovering over him and jolted him awake on the instant.

It was as if someone had reached across the barrier between body and mind, ascertained his soul, and vanished. In an obscene way, it felt as if he were being watched – or as if someone, searching, had found him and then retreated.

"What the hell was that?" he asked out loud into the darkness of the empty barn in which he had taken refuge.

"_You're a simpleton."_

Ikkaku sprang to his feet, sword drawn. "Who's there?" he demanded.

"_He's so powerful, even I felt that."_

"Who are you?" Ikkaku ordered again. "Show yourself!"

"_Idiot, just go back to sleep."_

Ikkaku continued to scan his surroundings, both looking and listening for movement. But there was nothing. He wasn't in the habit of second-guessing his own senses, and he knew he'd heard a voice. He made a visual sweep of the barn, then slowly moved from stall to stall, finding them all empty. He sprang up into the loft. Also empty. Whoever it was must have already run away.

Even so, Ikkaku was not going to remain here any longer. It was time for him to find someplace safer to sleep.

* * *

><p>It was such a wonderful feeling.<p>

He had not forgotten the pleasure of lying in his master's arms. The warmth of his body, the gentleness of his touch, the sound of his laughter. All these things had stayed vivid in Ruri'iro Kujaku's memory.

And how he had missed them. Just how much, he had not realized until now.

A moment like this one, where he submitted – just as a zanpakuto was supposed to, or so he guessed – almost made up for all the isolation and contention that had preceded it. And Yumichika was easy to submit to, for he repaid the obedience with affection. Ruri'iro Kujaku hungered after that affection and coveted it like a jealous lover.

Yumichika, for his own part, still knew precisely how to handle the peacock's mutable moods: his moments of prideful condescension, his sulking, his demand for attention, his need to be told how beautiful he was. He knew the power of his own touch, and he knew exactly how to use it. He was slowly coming to recognize that what Ruri'iro Kujaku had told him six months ago after the incident in the orchard was true. Ruri'iro Kujaku's love for him was of completely different fabric than simple sexual love. They had long been able to embrace each other, appreciate and enjoy the look and feel each other's body, even exchange a chaste kiss from time to time; but there had been nothing beyond that. The ravenous hunger they had both experienced early on for each other still existed – that was undeniable – yet it seemed that in their separation from each other, they had both come to the conclusion that it was never to be acted upon. It was not the proper type of relationship for either of them. It was dangerous. Between the two of them, there was such an over-abundance of erotic potency that it could not be contained if they let it ignite.

Now, as Yumichika lay with his arms around Ruri'iro Kujaku, the reikon's head resting on his chest, he was torn. He was happy. Ruri'iro Kujaku was beyond happy. And yet, his thoughts were already looking ahead.

He stroked the back of Ruri'iro Kujaku's head, indulging the feel of the luxuriant thickness of Ruri'iro's unbound hair. It was heavy and soft, and he loved the way it felt against his palm.

Yumichika spoke in a near-whisper. "It's been a long time since we've been together like this."

Ruri'iro Kujaku's only reply was a contented sigh.

"I'd forgotten how nice it felt to be close to you," Yumichika went on.

"I never forgot," Ruri'iro replied.

After several seconds, Yumichika spoke again. "I'm surprised you agreed to help me."

"Yes, that was surprising," the reikon asked.

"I know you'd be happier if it were just me and you," Yumichika said. "I know you despise Ikkaku. After eight months of holding out, I didn't think you'd give in."

"I hate being cut off from you," Ruri'iro Kujaku explained. "And I—I love you too much to force myself upon you."

His words caught Yumichika by surprise, for they seemed to convey the idea that Ruri'iro Kujaku was powerful enough to overcome his defenses, and that the only reason he hadn't done so was because he had made a conscious decision not to. Yumichika had long suspected this, but now he seemed to have received confirmation.

"Am I not strong enough to defend against you?" he asked.

Ruri'iro made a sound of humorous affection. "You're stronger than you were. But it's been a long time since you've made any progress." He propped himself on his elbows and regarded his master with mild chastisement. "You let other things get in the way of our training."

Yumichika looked up at him. "Such as?"

"Such as your ego."

Of all the answers he could have expected, this was not among them.

"My ego?"

"Yes," Ruri'iro replied. "You thought you had learned all you needed to learn. You thought you were good enough. And you may be good enough to take care of some hoodlums or maybe even a weak hollow."

"But?"

"But you're not strong enough to defeat me," Ruri'iro replied. "You wouldn't even be able to defeat Madarame yet."

Yumichika was silent, for he believed this to be true. He could not argue against it, but he was not willing to admit it, either.

Ruri'iro went on. "But we can start training again. While we're searching for Madarame, we can train. It will take us some time to catch up with him – even using the method of travel I've taught you."

Yumichika felt a spark of excitement. "Do you—do you know where he is?"

The reikon lowered his eyes, almost shamefully. "Not exactly, but I know which direction to head. I've known for quite some time."

"You've been able to feel his riatsu even with—even with me closing you off?" Yumichika was flabbergasted.

"Not all the time," Ruri'iro replied. "But he's got a very distinctive riatsu, and every now and then, I can just barely discern it. It's very powerful, and he doesn't know how to use it." He lay back down. "I thought about telling you many times, but . . . I was too angry. I guess I had to reach a point where the loneliness outweighed the anger."

Yumichika reached down and placed a finger under the Ruri'iro Kujaku's chin. He tilted his head up and looked him in the eye. "I've been lucky to have you," he said, kissing him gently on the mouth. "Even though I don't always realize it."

"I'll keep reminding you," Ruri'iro grinned, then taking on a submissive tone. "You—you won't shut me out anymore, will you?"

"No," Yumichika replied. "Well, I have to, sometimes. I need to have some privacy, Ruri'iro Kujaku."

"I know that," the reikon replied. "But we'll start training together again?"

"Yes."

"And even once we find Madarame, you'll still come to me and spend time here?"

Yumichika tightened his embrace. "I will. I promise." It did not even occur to Yumichika that he had made this very same promise before - and broken it.

"Will you show me to him?"

Yumichika drew in a deep breath. "We'll have to see about that."


	25. Chapter 25

_**Dear Reader, this is a fairly long chapter but relatively calm. Things are about to get pretty wild in the next couple chapters, as I am only a short distance away from the first meeting between Ikkaku and Zaraki. So, it may take me a little longer in my editing to get those chapters ready for publication. Thanks to Annie-Chan for pointing out some of my misspellings. Those misspellings still appear in this chapter (I forgot to correct them before uploading), and now I'm too lazy to go through and fix them all. But they will be corrected in Chapter 26. Peace, love and good vibes.**_

Chapter 25 City on the Sea

_Where is the Eden that you've dreamed of?  
><em>_Try to believe it's all come true.  
><em>_Then you can say that you're in love.  
><em>_Never to be alone._

_Forever to Be Alone  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p>Ikkaku could already smell the sea. He couldn't see it yet, but the briny air told him he was getting close.<p>

Six months ago, he had made the turn towards the east, and he had not deviated. His journey had taken him through all different landscapes, to villages, towns and cities, and across stretches of road where he'd not encountered another soul for weeks on end.

He'd travelled from fight to fight, for all intents and purposes; but other than that he'd avoided all distractions. His new beginning was to be, once again, void of all attachments, a life dedicated to the pursuit of experience for its own sake, whatever those experiences might be. It had thus far proven to be an empty life, but emptiness was tolerable. Loneliness was tolerable. He'd dealt with them both before, and they were easier to manage than disappointment and hurt. He'd had enough of the latter two to last him a hundred lifetimes.

He was climbing to the crest of a rolling hill, one among a series that he had been following for the past several weeks. But this would turn out to be the last one. Coming to the top, the view that opened before him showed one long downward slope—he judged at least four kilometers—leading down to the sea, stretching away before him in sparkling grandeur to where it met the sky. Slightly south of where he was standing, a large city rose up on the edge of the water. Its appearance, even from this distance, was of a much more modern style than anything in the Rukongai. It looked interesting.

He set off towards it at a leisurely pace.

* * *

><p>Dirty. Smelly. Rude. Gruff.<p>

He fit right in. No one even noticed his permanent scowl. No one paid any attention to the glowering eyes. His ragged clothes and filthy body – not even worth a first glance, much less a second.

These were city people. And port city people, at that. They'd seen worse. They'd heard worse. They were self-absorbed and perpetually in a rush.

The crush of humanity was something Ikkaku found amazingly scintillating. The many different looks and styles of the people passing him by were almost enough to make him contemplate the great diversity of the world in which he lived. But observation was more entertaining than contemplation, so he wandered the streets for just over an hour, coming to one of the only green spots in the city – a small park adjacent to one of the line of wavebreaks – and here he settled in the grass to watch the people go by. And size up possible opponents.

As the afternoon wore on and the May sun reflected off the water, the combination of warmth and breeze and salty air convinced Ikkaku to take a pause from his people-watching and lay back for some shuteye.

* * *

><p><em>Thirteen years. It had been thirteen years since Ikkaku had been back to this place. As he stood at the bottom of the ravine in which the monastery was located, looking up at it wedged between the crags, he felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia.<em>

_He was not sure why he had returned. Something had drawn him. Perhaps it was the recollection of those brief days of contentedness. Perhaps it was the knowledge that the war was expanding, and soon the brothers would join in the battles. Maybe they would reconsider allowing him to join them once he told them how he been spending the last thirteen years._

_He was twenty-nine years old – hard and proven. He had found a way to survive in the world, a world he did not care for; and he'd also found an occupation that served as a perfect outlet for his anger. He had no reason to be returning to a place of peace, especially as peace had not played any role in his life since leaving the monastery._

_He began the long, steep walk._

_It took him over an hour to make the climb, but he'd not been in a hurry. He needed to sort out his thoughts. He'd had days in which he could have done so during the journey here, but somehow, he'd not gotten around to it until now – until the sight of the monastery incited him to actively consider what he was going to say – a difficult quandary, given he did not even know why he was there._

_He came to the lower colonnade, an unguarded area used for receiving and screening visitors before allowing entrance into the monastery proper. _

_Here, he encountered a familiar face. The man had been a seminarian at the same time Ikkaku had been there; and although Ikkaku knew his face, he did not remember his name._

_The man, however, knew Ikkaku. A pleased glint of recognition showed in his eye. "Ikkaku-san! This is such a surprise."_

_Ikkaku nodded. Seeing the shades of red at the corners of the man's eyes, he felt a twinge of envy, then sadness. "I see you were accepted into the order."_

_"By the skin of my teeth, I think," the man replied. "I never was as skilled at combat as you."_

_"Few are," Ikkaku said with no taint of superiority. It was simply a statement of the facts. "But you had other strengths that I lacked."_

_"I suppose if we were all the same, life would be dull," his companion stated genially. "Have you come for a visit? Or to try again?"_

_"I'm too old to try again—"_

_"You're only a little older than I am. It's never too late."_

_Ikkaku cracked a grin. "But I haven't improved in those areas where I was lacking. I'm just not cut out for the monastic life." But how he wished he were. "Is Hakama-dono still here?"_

_"Of course. Shall I take you to him?"_

_"Is he in his cell?"_

_"I would imagine so."_

_"I know the way." Ikkaku took a step, then stopped. "Is it alright for me to go unescorted?"_

_"Of course. Everyone knows you. You are always welcome here, Ikkaku-san."_

_As Ikkaku started walking towards the inner quarters, he thought wryly about the man's comment. Always welcome. Always welcome as a visitor, but not as a brother. As a transient, but not a permanent resident. He felt the bitterness trying to push its way up his throat, but he swallowed it down. He could not be upset with anyone but himself. It had been his own lack of aptitude—as Hakama had put it thirteen years ago—that had denied him this life. The brothers had been good to him, but ultimately, they could not accept him, and he knew he had no right to expect them to change their rules of acceptance simply to accommodate a man who did not meet the requirements of the order._

_If there were to be any bitterness, any anger, let it be directed towards himself for his own failings._

_He crossed a narrow courtyard and took a trellis-covered pathway on the far end to a cloister, one side of which was hewn into the stark cliff wall. Here the monks had their cells. Hakama's cell was one of those carved from the cliff. It was one of Ikkaku's favorite memories of the monastery – a cool, dark room lit with only a white beeswax candle and a multi-colored hanging lantern. The cell's only contents had been a paper-thin futon, a ceramic wash basin, a tiny wooden shrunk, a writing table, and a small shrine against the back wall. The cell had always had a unique smell, the mixture of moist cave air and incense, which Hakama kept burning perpetually._

_In fact, as Ikkaku drew nearer to the cell, he could already smell it._

_The doorway was covered with a summer sheer of handmade silk, fine and delicate, yet effective at obscuring the inside of the cell._

_Ikkaku stood outside the sheer and was about to announce his arrival when Hakama's voice from within met his ears._

_"Enter."_

_Ikkaku pushed aside the sheer and stepped inside._

_Hakama was standing behind the writing table, ready to receive his visitor. _

_A broad smile was on his face. "Ikkaku-san."_

_Ikkaku suddenly felt a sea of emotions swell up his throat. He had not imagined it would affect him this way. He was stoic and as impenetrable as a fortress. Or so he'd thought. But now, facing Hakama, seeing the joyful gleam in the man's eye – a joy brought about by his appearance – his control bled away. He crossed the room and when he was face-to-face with his former teacher, he dropped to his knees and grabbed Hakama's hand, pressing it to his cheek. He broke into sobs – the first time he had cried since he was old enough to understand what crying was._

_Hakama did not try to silence him. He let him go on until, at last, Ikkaku regained enough composure to at least partly close the floodgates._

"_I am very happy to see you, child," Hakama said, inclining his head then adding, "I suppose I can't call you a child anymore. You were already a man when you left. Now, you look like one, too." He ran his head over Ikkaku's shaven head. "Did you adopt this look because you like it or to pay homage to the brothers?"_

"_Both," Ikkaku replied, grateful for the humor. _

"_Come, sit at the table." Hakama said. He went to the doorway and motioned for the attention of the houseboy to come near. "Kufu, please bring some tea from the kitchen." He returned to Ikkaku and sat across from him. "How many years has it been?"_

"_Thirteen."_

"_Ah, so long. It seems like only yesterday you left us. What have you been doing?"_

_Ikkaku gave a one-sided shrug. "Just . . . wandering around."_

"_Wandering around? Is that all?"_

"_Trying to keep busy." Ikkaku shifted uncomfortably. The topic was a difficult one._

_"Oh?"_

_"You told me idleness was my enemy, so I've tried to stay busy," Ikkaku explained._

"_In what way?"_

"_Oh, different ways. I go from place to place."_

_Hakama pressed further. "And do what?"_

_Ikkaku tried to sound like the man Hakama judged him to be. "Offer my services."_

"_I see. And those services would include?"_

"_My sword, my fighting skills," Ikkaku admitted at last._

_Hakama betrayed no expression to give an idea of his opinion. "Offered for the protection of others?"_

"_Sometimes. I—I fight for whichever clan pays me the most."_

_Hakama nodded. "You're a mercenary."_

"_I guess so." Ikkaku felt he had to justify himself. "It's an honest living. I've never had to steal or beg."_

"_And you are happy with the mercenary life?" _

_Ikkaku looked at his hands absently. "I never thought about it."_

_Hakama smiled kindly. "You don't have to think about being happy to know if you are."_

_Ikkaku shrugged again, this time with both shoulders. "I'm satisfied."_

_A chuckle broke from Hakama's lips. "Satisfied? That's not much to hope for."_

"_It's good enough for me."_

_Hakama examined his face for a long, silent moment. _

"_I don't believe you. I don't believe that's how you really feel."_

"_I like fighting," Ikkaku stated. "This lets me fight and get paid for it." He paused as the tea arrived. "I've kept up the fighting skills I learned here. That makes it pretty easy for me to find work."_

_Hakama poured out tea for both of them. "I see. And the other things you learned here . . . have you kept up with those?"_

"_Some of them."_

"_Your learning?"_

_Ikkaku shook his head. "No . . . I haven't had time for study."_

"_Prayer?"_

"_No. It's just—it's not my thing. I still . . . I still have trouble believing."_

"_It is nothing to be ashamed of, Ikkaku," Hakama replied in the soothing, non-judging manner that made Ikkaku admire him so. "I will always hope for you, but it makes me think no less of you."_

_Ikkaku was grateful for his words, and he wanted Hakama to be proud of him. There was at least one aspect of the order he had maintained. _

"_There is one practice I've been successful at," he offered. "I've stayed celibate."_

_Hakama was surprised. "That's admirable, Ikkaku. And curious. Celibacy is strictly a practice of the order. That would never be something I would expect you to carry into the outside world unless you were a brother." He paused. "So, you haven't married?"_

"_I don't want to be married," Ikkaku replied, taking a long sip of tea. "I don't want anything to—to interfere with my—my—"_

"_Your profession."_

_Ikkaku colored. "I wouldn't make a good husband."_

_"That I cannot say," Hakama conceded. "But you would make a good friend. Do you have friends?"_

_"It's a little tough to do in my line of work—"_

_"Ikkaku-san," Hakama cut him off. "You must not make excuses so that you can cut yourself off from the world. Your past does not have to dictate your future. Look at you. You are grown into a strong, handsome man. You are smart, even though you always liked to cover it with brutality. And you could be loyal. I know there are many households that would welcome and honor such a man. Is not being the head of a house guard better than a mercenary? Be in a place where you can develop bonds, friendships, even respectful master-servant relations."_

_Ikkaku hesitated. "Actually, I . . . I was thinking about . . . I was thinking that I might, uh, join one of the regiments already fighting in the war."_

_Hakama was silent for a long time. At length, he said in a thoughtful voice. "You have the skills to be a good mercenary, but do you have the discipline to be a good soldier?"_

_"I have the fighting skills—"_

_"Do you have the discipline?" Hakama stood up and walked over to the window. He looked outside in a distant manner. "Going into combat requires more than mere fighting skills. As a mercenary, you do what you must for pay. And to make use of that pay, you must also preserve your own life. In combat, the protection of others comes first. The protection of the way of life we are fighting to preserve. The protection of our citizens. The protection of your brothers-in-arms. Going into battle does not involve only yourself."_

_Ikkaku frowned. "I'm not afraid to lose my life."_

_"Why do you keep avoiding the question?" Hakama turned to face him across the room. "This isn't about whether or not you're afraid to die. It's about whether or not you have the discipline to be an effective soldier. Can you follow orders? Can you obey? Are you able to subdue your impetuous nature? The last place you want to lose your head is in the middle of a battle. It will cost you your life and the lives of others."_

_"You don't think I have the discipline," Ikkaku stated, looking down._

_"I am asking you." A pause. "No captain wants a trouble-maker – no matter how good a fighter he is."_

_Ikkaku shook his head in resignation. "Yet another place I don't belong."_

_"Come here," Hakama said._

_Ikkaku joined him at the window._

_"Ikkaku, when you leave this life, where do you want to go?" Hakama asked._

_Ikkaku was caught off-guard. He had not been expecting the question, and he had never given it even a moment's thought. "I don't know," he replied. "All that matters is here and now."_

_"The here and now is only one step along the way. This is the time you have in which to decide what your next step will be. Do you want to go to Soul Society? Will you have so many regrets that you are bound here by sorrow and end up as a hollow? Do you even care?"_

_"You know I don't believe in any of that."_

_"Perhaps not, but let's assume it's true. Let's assume Soul Society exists. Would you want to go there?" Hakama pressed._

_Ikkaku shrugged. "I don't know. Not if it's anything like this world." He paused and looked up at Hakama. "Is it?"_

_"I don't know for certain," Hakama answered. "We have only the revelations and visions of the elders to go on. And from what they tell us, it is very much like this place, but still also only a transitory world."_

_Ikkaku considered for a moment. "Have you ever had a vision of Soul Society, Hakama-dono?"_

_"No," came the reply. "I haven't the spiritual energy to touch or attract that world."_

_"But if it's like here, then why—what would a soul do there? What's the purpose?"_

_Hakama grinned. "For someone who doesn't believe, you sound awfully curious."_

_Ikkaku crossed his arms and walked a few steps away, and with his back to Hakama, asked a daring question. "What if I'm not good enough to go there? Or what if I go there, and life is the same as it is here?" He sound of grief broke from his lips, but he drew himself together immediately. "What if I really do become a hollow?"_

_Hakama came up behind him and put his hands on his shoulders. "I see. A part of you does believe. You're just afraid you won't be good enough."_

_Ikkaku said nothing._

_"Ikkaku-san," Hakama spoke quietly and distinctly. "Soul Society is not the home for only good souls. It is the home for all souls that don't become hollows. What comes beyond Soul Society has not been revealed." A pause. "Do you recall the lesson on the visitation of the Shinigami?"_

_"A little."_

_"Of all the times Shinigami have appeared in this world, fully half of those appearances have been to souls with no more belief than you have." He turned Ikkaku to face him. "And not half the spiritual pressure you have."_

_"Spiritual pressure?" Ikkaku regarded him with a stunned expression._

_"I could feel just an inkling of it when you were here as a young man. That's why I've always had the hope that one day you would find a way to develop it and put it to good use. And now it has grown much stronger. But it still brims with anger and without joy. Coupled with your belligerent leanings, that's not a good combination," Hakama explained._

_"Why would I have spirit energy?" Ikkaku asked. "My father doesn't have it. I doubt my mother did."_

_"Everyone has it. Just some more than others. And you're wrong about your father. He has strong spirit energy, although nothing approaching yours. But his energy, like yours, is infused with anger and hatred. I don't want to see you follow in his footsteps."_

_Ikkaku was doubtful. "You don't think it's already too late?"_

_"Of course not. But you have to want to change. That will be your decision and yours alone, which brings us back to the topic we started with. Do you have the discipline? Do you have the discipline to change yourself? Only then can you develop the discipline to submit to another's orders and be useful as a soldier." _

_A bell sounded._

_"There's the bell for supper. Come and join us. The brothers will be happy to see you."_

_They headed together for the dining hall._

* * *

><p>The afternoon was almost over, and Ikkaku was growing hungry. And thirsty. He got up from the spot in the grass where he'd been lying for the past three hours at least, and decided to find a place to eat. He had no money, but he was not averse to scavenging. It was harder to come across easy food in the city than it was in the countryside. Snatching an apple from a tree was easier than snatching it from a vendor. Asking a country woman to give him some bread went over much better than doing the same to a city woman.<p>

He strolled along the shore walk, a board pathway that separated the pristine beach from the fine guest accommodations that overlooked it. This part of town appeared to be a resort area, and Ikkaku sauntered along as if to provoke anyone who might challenge his right to be there. He passed a large, elegant structure, white-washed and blisteringly bright in the sun, two doormen standing watch outside to make sure no undesirables dared approach. Ikkaku considered but decided against it. He was more interested in food. He kept walking.

"M-Madarame-san?"

Ikkaku startled at the sound of his name. Turning, he was even more surprised. Standing at the top of the steps, having just come out the door between the two guards, stood a man he hadn't seen in years. It took him a moment to recall the man's name.

"Imakao . . ."

Imakao bounded down the steps and approached him as if they were old friends. He slapped Ikkaku on the back and, deciding that was not enough, drew him in for a quick hug, which Ikkaku received with stiff awkwardness.

"What are you doing here?" the wealthy merchant beamed, then taking in Ikkaku's appearance, "And looking like that? Does Yumichika know you're walking around like . . . that?" The buoyancy seeped out of his manner. "No . . . you've been like this for days. I can see that. That means . . . Yumichika isn't with you?"

"No."

The way Madarame let the word drop so flatly told Imakao that there was much to be explained. But here on the boardwalk was not the place.

"I was just heading out for dinner, but instead I think I'll eat in and you can join me. You're not really fit to be seen in any of the restaurants," he said. "What do you say? Can I interest you in a meal?"

Ikkaku grinned with a sly eye. "I was hoping you'd ask."

As he accompanied Imakao through the doorway, he could not help but cast a smug sneer at the doormen. "I'll bet you've never gotten to eat in—"

Imakao grabbed Ikkaku's arm and yanked him inside.

* * *

><p>Imakao ordered enough food to feed forty men for forty days. At least, that's how it appeared to Ikkaku after so many days without a decent meal. A considerate host, Imakao did not ask any questions before the meal. Instead, he offered Ikkaku the use of the wash facilities and ordered up a yukata for him to wear.<p>

By the time Ikkaku had scrubbed off weeks worth of filth and stench, the food had arrived and it was time to eat. To his inquiry, Imakao explained that he was on his yearly visit to Guckoo, the name of the city, for a merchants meeting, which he combined with the best hotels, the best food, and a robust vacation.

Imakao waited patiently, but as soon as could see Ikkaku had had his fill, he began the questioning.

"So, tell me what you are doing here? And without Yumichika? It's been . . . I don't know, over twenty years. I've been wondering all these years about what really happened. Why did you leave Mito without a word?" He poured a glass of sake and set it before Ikkaku.

Ikkaku downed it in one swallow.

"You know what happened to Yumichika," he began, posing the statement as a question.

"Yes, yes, I only found about it because a man I do business with had been in Mito and heard the news. I guess the men who did it were still bragging about it. As soon as I got word, I undertook to go to Mito, but I had to go around because there were storms out on the sea. By the time I got there, you were both gone." Imakao paused. "I assumed you'd left together."

Ikkaku nodded. "Yumichika wanted to leave, and I was only too happy to oblige him. We snuck out in the middle of the night and kept going for weeks until we found a place where he'd be safe."

"Where did you go?"

Ikkaku was not willing to divulge Yumichika's location, not even to Imakao, whom he actually trusted.

"North," was all he would allow.

Imakao accepted that. He poured another sake. "And Yumichika . . . how is he?"

"He was fine last time I saw him," Ikkaku replied.

"How long ago was that?"

"A year. Year and a half. I don't know exactly. I've kind of lost track of the days."

Imakao was mildly surprised. "I . . . I assumed the two of you were living together."

"We were."

Imakao threw back his own sake. "But not anymore?"

"Not right now." Not exactly the truth, but not fully a lie either.

"What happened?"

"Nothing happened," Ikkaku replied. "I just wanted to be on my own for a while."

Imakao eyed him doubtfully. "You willingly left Yumichika? I find that hard to believe."

"It's true."

"A year and a half, you say? I'm surprised he'd let you be away from him for so long," Imakao quipped. "He was very attached to you. Sometimes, I thought he was in love with you."

"You, uh, definitely thought wrong," Ikkaku said, maintaining a cool exterior but feeling queasy inside.

"Then . . . you weren't in love with him?"

"No."

Imakao shook his head in puzzled humor. "I thought Yumichika was able to make everyone fall in love with him."

Ikkaku swigged down another glass. "Lust isn't love. He was able to make everyone lust after him. And not even on purpose – although . . . agh, forget it."

But Imakao was not going to forget it. "So, in the time since you left Mito, you've never been in love with him?"

"I already told you no, so why are you asking me again?" Ikkaku huffed.

Imakao was not perturbed. "Because in all the years I knew Yumichika, I never got the sense that he loved anyone – not even me. Ha! Especially not me! But after he met you . . . whenever he'd talk about you, there was something different about him. And I thought, if a man is lucky enough to have Yumichika's affection, then there must be more to Madarame than I had originally thought. That's why I didn't kill you that night you broke into my chamber."

"You couldn't have killed me even if you'd wanted to," Ikkaku corrected.

"You're probably right. I don't imagine I can come close to your fighting skill," Imakao conceded. "But then again, I also don't come close to your stupidity." He went on quickly before Ikkaku could express his outrage. "What on earth, in heaven or in hell could make you leave Yumichika? And don't try to pass off that idiotic excuse again. Wanting to be on your own for a while is fine, but a year and a half?"

"Look, whatever happens between me and Yumichika is between me and Yumichika," Ikkaku stated. "You don't need to be concerned."

Imakao simpered. "At least tell me . . . is he truly alright? Nothing's happened to him?"

"Like I said, he was fine. He's been fine since we left Mito. Getting away from there was the best thing that ever happened to him." In the silence of his mind, Ikkaku added, _"And I might be the worst thing."_

"Are you going to go back to him?"

Ikkaku hesitated. When he answered, it was in a slow, thoughtful voice. "He's hard to stay away from. He told me that himself shortly after I first met him – that people can't stay away from him. They always come back."

"Will you?"

"I don't know." Ikkaku had known from the moment he'd left Yumichika in Venla that he would not be returning, but why could he not admit it out loud?

"So, what you told me about just wanting to go off on your own for a while was a lie," Imakao challenged. "It might be a while and it might be forever." He leaned forward and looked Ikkaku in the eye. "What really happened? Why did you leave him?"

"I told you, that's between me and Yumichika," Ikkaku replied. He downed one more shot then got to his feet. "I think it's time for me to go. I still have to find a place to sleep."

Both he and Imakao knew that wasn't the reason. Ikkaku simply did not want to discuss the matter.

Imakao backed off. "You can stay here. There's plenty of room. And I promise, no more questions about you and Yumichika."

Ikkaku considered. "They serve breakfast?"

"More than you could ever eat."

That sealed the deal.

Ikkaku nodded. "I'll stay."

* * *

><p>A bell was chiming somewhere in the city, ringing out the three o'clock hour.<p>

And Ikkaku was still unable to sleep.

He and Imakao had turned off the sake spigot sometime after one o'clock. Imakao had retreated to his room, and Ikkaku had opted for the floor in the sitting room of the suite. He had drank heavily but had never lost command of his reason. Nor had Imakao. Whatever mistakes Ikkaku had made in the past, there would be no mistakes tonight. His new beginning did not entail mistakes.

But it did entail self-recrimination.

As he lay in the darkness, hearing the sound of the waves rolling along the shore and the occasional bursts of laughter from late-night revelers, he found that his evening's discussion with Imakao had brought Yumichika plowing back into his thoughts with so much force, he could think of nothing else.

Eighteen months ago, he had given in to a sexual desire that he had long held at bay. He had prompted Yumichika, and Yumichika had given himself over willingly. In the shadow of the danger posed by his father, Ikkaku had completely lost his focus and exposed both himself and Yumichika to his father's wiles.

And now both he and Yumichika were paying the price for it. Once again, his own weakness, his own foolishness and selfishness had wrought the just desserts of his actions. But this time, he wasn't the only one suffering, and the truth was he held his own situation as of no account at all. No, this time, he had hurt someone else. He'd not had the presence of mind or the fortitude to do what he should have done from the outset.

And by outset, he meant just that.

"I should never have taken him up on his offer to stay with him," he said silently. "None of this would've happened if I'd just taken the water and left. It's just like Hakama said . . . one action . . . one action determines your path." He clenched his fists. "I want a different path!"

_"So? Then do it. Partner, you really are a blockhead."_

Ikkaku grunted into the darkness. His conscience had become more and more persistent lately, barging in when he'd not wanted any contest, admonishing him and berating him. It was annoying, and considering Ikkaku had never believed himself in possession of a conscience before, its increasingly frequent arousal, while novel, was also frustrating.

_"If one action can change your life, then another action can change it again. Stop being a lazy simpleton."_

"I'm not lazy, and I'm not simple," Ikkaku protested, but then honesty caught up with him. "Well . . . I'm not simple."

_"You don't even know what's coming. You've been so busy running away, you don't know what's coming."_

It seemed a strange thing for his conscience to assert. "Then tell me. What's coming?"

_"Lazy bum. You would want me to just tell you. You need to learn for yourself, and I'm—well, I'll be honest. I'm too lazy to teach you."_

"You call me lazy, but you admit that you're lazy?"

_"At least I'm honest. Come on, you've felt it before. You've sensed it."_

"What has any of this got to do with Yumichika?"

_"It has everything to do with little prissy—"_

Ikkaku was surprised at himself and immediately rebuked, "Don't call him that."

_"Little prissy, big prissy. What difference does it make? Bottom line, partner: there's a lot you don't know, and if you want to continue on in ignorance, that's your call. I'll just be an ignoramus by association."_

Ikkaku groaned and begged the gods he did not believe in to deliver him into a merciful sleep before his conscience became any more confused than it already was.

* * *

><p>The sun was setting in the outside world. Another burst of paint-brush hues sweeping across the western sky. A smattering of stars in the twilight. Garlet blooms closing for the night. Pimpkins opening their petals for a show of color witnessed only by the moon and night creatures. The air filling with a smell that could only be described as the scent after day's end but before nightfall.<p>

It was Ruri'iro Kujaku's favorite time of day in his master's world, no matter what the season, what the weather. He had been present for it every evening since reconciling with Yumichika. This evening was no different.

He and Yumichika had come to the edge of a wood that opened out onto the downward slope of expansive farmlands. These were beanfields, the young plants still showing plenty of ground between shoots. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, making a soothing sound.

Yumichika sat in the grass, his back resting against the smooth trunk of a formidable beech tree. Ruri'iro Kujaku lay with his head in his lap, gazing out over the fields, as Yumichika stroked the fine feather coverings on his arms and sides. Just as the sight of the sunsets brought Ruri'iro Kujaku great contentment, so did Yumichika find tranquility in the simple act of caressing the exotic body of a being so different from himself. And even though Ruri'iro Kujaku still appeared to him surrounded by the obscuring swirl of colorful light, the recollection of what lay beneath that light allowed Yumichika to picture the skin, the feathers, the violet eyes, the blue-black hair. That image of beauty was forever inscribed in his memory, and what he could not see clearly, he could at least touch.

"Why can we not just stay here forever, master?" Ruri'iro asked in a languid voice. "We could watch the sun set every day."

Yumichika gave his arm an affectionate rub. "It's tempting."

"Or-or better yet, why don't we return to the meadow above Venla? There, we could see the most spectacular sunrises and the sunsets!" the peacock suggested.

Yumichika smiled fondly. "Don't start."

"With the speed move, you could be back in a matter of weeks—"

Yumichika silenced him by leaning down into the shifting, glowing light, finding his lips and kissing him tenderly. The gesture made him wish with every fiber of his being that he could see beyond the veil again, that he could catch even a glimpse of this stunning creature once more with clarity. "What am I going to do with you?" he whispered.

"You could kiss me again."

Yumichika gladly obliged, this time lingering and savoring every second. Being with Ruri'iro Kujaku had once again taken on the same sweet contentment that it had inspired before. In fact, Yumichika was so pleased to be with him that he could hardly recall the contention that had started to fester between them. As he straightened up, he could see reflected in the brilliancy of the halo the fact that the reikon was very happy. Over the years, he had come to be able to read Ruri'iro Kujaku's moods through the shifting patterns of color. And in the months since they'd made peace, he had detected nothing but bliss and serenity.

From the moment Ruri'iro Kujaku had agreed to help him, they had been on the go. The zanpakuto had stayed true to his word and pointed out the direction in which Yumichika needed to head. Yumichika had initially been perturbed by Ruri'iro's revelation that he'd been heading in the wrong direction all along.

"_You let me wander around all these months, knowing I was wrong?" _

But when Ruri'iro Kujaku reminded him – with due humility – of the reason behind his silence: _"I was jealous and angry",_ Yumichika could not even stay disappointed with him.

After that, Ruri'iro Kujaku had led him truly, although Yumichika had no way of knowing this, for he still could not detect Ikkaku's riatsu. He found that he trusted Ruri'iro Kujaku to lead him properly. After all, the reikon had never lied to him. He might be many things, but a liar was not one of them. In fact, his penchant for stating the truth in the most direct terms made Yumichika uncomfortable from time to time. But at least he knew he was getting the truth.

Now, three weeks after Ruri'iro Kujaku had taken over their journey, Yumichika had crossed two broad river valleys, mile upon mile of sweeping hills of waving grass, through villages and past settlements. He'd used his abilities to take care of getting whatever he needed, and any trouble he encountered was quickly dispatched through the use of those same seductive powers.

As they lounged there in the dimming light, Yumichika noted a sudden, albeit brief, alteration in the reikon's colors.

"Ruri'iro Kujaku? Is everything alright?"

The peacock hesitated. Yumichika could sense that he was flustered and confused.

"Kimi, what's wrong?" he pressed.

Ruri'iro Kujaku sat up. "I don't understand it."

"What? What don't you understand?"

"I don't understand what it is that I—that I'm detecting when I reach out to find Madarame," Ruri'iro stated. "I mean, just now, I thought—"

"Just now? You were trying to find him just now?"

"Yes." The kujaku turned to face him. "When you do something like that for me, when you are good to me like that, it makes me want to do something good for you. So, I reached out to find out where Madarame is, to make sure we're still going in the right direction."

"Are we?"

"We are." Ruri'iro Kujaku paused. "He's still a long way off, but I—I sense something . . . odd whenever I find him. It's as if—as if someone else is there."

Yumichika felt a stab of anxiousness, or perhaps it was better labeled as jealousy. "Someone else?"

"I can't quite tell. It's as if he has two riatsus—"

Yumichika's eyes widened. "Ruri'iro Kujaku."

The reikon looked at him and knew immediately what he was thinking. "No. Impossible!"

"Why not? If I have a zanpakuto, it's possible that Ikkaku could have one, too. He's more suited towards it than I am."

"Don't be insulting," Ruri'iro said. "If you weren't suited towards having a zanpakuto, I wouldn't be here."

"I know, I know," Yumichika walked back the comment. "I just meant that he likes to fight." A pause. "So, you can sense two riatsus?"

"From time to time."

"Is the other riatsu . . . is it friendly?"

Ruri'iro Kujaku turned his shoulder and flipped his hair. "Friendly?" he said in a rather mocking voice. "It feels very similar to Madarame's. That what had me so confused. Sometimes, I can't tell which is which."

"But you don't think it's another person?"

"I don't know. I don't think so, but . . . I don't know, kimi."

Now, more than ever, Yumichika wanted to close the distance between him and Ikkaku. He was tempted to travel through the night, but that would probably be too hurtful to Ruri'iro Kujaku, who relished the nights as much as the sunsets, as the time when he could lay beside his master in peace.

Ruri'iro Kujaku, in fact, had already anticipated this announcement would spur his master into action; and he was ready to be ordered underway. So, when Yumichika drew him back almost forcefully, directing him to recline against his chest and closing his arms around him, opening up the perfect view to the last of the orange arc of the disappearing sun, Ruri'iro was pleasantly surprised.

"I want to tell you something," Yumichika said in a tepid voice.

"Yes?"

"You've made me very happy these last few months," Yumichika began.

"I've been happy, too," Ruri'iro Kujaku replied.

"I don't know what will happen when we find Ikkaku," Yumichika went on. "I don't know how he'll react."

"I understand." Ruri'iro knew more was coming.

"You and I won't be able to spend as much time together," Yumichika explained. "I—I won't be able to have you out here as often as you are now."

"I know."

"I don't want you to angry or disappointed," Yumichika implored.

"Of course, I'll be disappointed," Ruri'iro admitted. "I miss you when we're not together. And you know how much I love coming outside. I still wish you would reveal me to Madarame, but even if you don't, as long as you spend time with me . . . that's all I want from you, kimi-san. Nothing is right when I'm separated from you."

Yumichika was touched. He tightened his embrace. "I'm glad you agreed to help me. I know how hard it was for you, but I had no chance without you."

"I didn't do it willingly," Ruri'iro said. "But I don't want to feel that alone ever again. The emptiness was . . . "

"Don't say anymore," Yumichika shushed. "I hated being apart from you, too. But those days are past. You taught me not to dwell on the past. I'm giving you your own advice."

The halo surrounding Ruri'iro Kujaku glowed a contented blue. "And I'm taking that advice."

* * *

><p>Ikkaku woke up with a pounding head.<p>

He hadn't tied one on like that in a long time.

Sitting up slowly, he found himself still on the floor in Imakao's suite. The door to Imakao's room was still shut, and Ikkaku heard no movement from within, leading him to believe the merchant must still be asleep.

He walked over to the window to check the weather. The sky was mostly clear with a few wisps of clouds wandering lazily towards the east and out to sea. Down below, the streets already had a fair amount of activity, so it must be several hours past dawn.

Ikkaku was not going to hang around. Seeing Imakao had been an expected and somewhat pleasurable way of passing an evening, but now Ikkaku was ready to move on. He was feeling the urge to flex his muscles, and there were better places to find an opponent than a posh seaside hotel. A port town like this must have shipyards and docks filled with coarse, stocky men every bit as crude and vicious as Ikkaku deemed himself to be.

He changed back into his own clothes, then helped himself to some of the leftover food from yesterday's dinner. He was filling his pockets with more of the same when Imakao entered the room.

"Leaving already?"

"I like to get an early start," Ikkaku replied.

"Well, I think you're too late for that. It's past ten." Imakao stretched and yawned. "Where are you headed?"

"Out for a little action," Ikkaku replied. "After that, who knows?"

"Yes, Yumichika told me about your penchant for brawling," Imakao grinned. "You'll find plenty of opportunity for that here. Just be careful. They're like pack animals. You take on one, you take on all of them."

"Sounds like my kind of fight."

"Then I won't keep you. Only, are you sure you don't want to stay for a fresh breakfast?"

"Nah, I had leftovers."

Imakao chuckled. "You are every bit as grotesque as Yumichika said you were."

Now, it was Ikkaku's turn to laugh. "Thank you."

Imakao walked to the door with him. "If you see Yumichika again, tell him I've missed doing business with him."

Ikkaku nodded and said nothing.

Imakao went on. "And Madarame-san . . . don't be a fool. If you had him, you should never have let him get away."

Ikkaku's only response was a curt, "Thanks for the food."

Then he was out the door.

In search of the shipyards.

He asked directions of people on the streets and an hour later, he approached an industrial stretch of shoreline that was as different from the area he had just left as night was from day. The resort atmosphere of indulgence and privilege was replaced by the stench of sweat, brawn and smelt ovens. The sounds of carnival rides and crashing waves gave way to those of pounding hammers and blow furnaces. The bright and gay colors of awnings and window dressings now melted into grays and browns and blacks.

It was a hard industry, manned by hard souls.

Ikkaku passed a few here and there as he walked through the streets. Pitiless faces regarded him with wary, assessing eyes. Men with burly arms and muscular shoulders sauntered past him without any of the usual expressions of dread or fear that Ikkaku had come to expect. No, these men weren't afraid of him. They may not be afraid of anything, for all Ikkaku knew.

As he drew closer to the shipyards themselves, a strange feeling began to overtake him. He had the sense of increased masculinity, as if he were entering a man's world that was brutal and unforgiving. His heart began to pound with anticipation. There would be nothing beautiful or gentle or demur about the men he found here. They would give him a good challenge, and they would probably do so willingly.

The entrance to the shipyard was guarded, and Ikkaku did not want to waste his time on the two guards. He walked past and simply jumped the wall further down. When he raised his eyes to see the world in which he had landed, he was flabbergasted to such a degree that the thought of fighting slipped away – for a moment, at least.

On-site iron works. Brick furnaces. Smoke stacks that reached up higher than any tree. Bare-chested stokers shoveling coal. Manually-operated cranes moving girders and ribbing and plates. Cooling pools and smaller cooling vats. Pipes and pulleys and lifts. And over all, thick layers of soot and dust.

Ikkaku may never have believed in heaven, but if there were such a place, it would be like this. Never had he seen so much power and so much sheer muscle concentrated in one place. It was mesmerizing.

At first, no one noticed him as he walked through the maze of factory buildings, but when he came to the dry dock where a ship was being built, he could not help but be conspicuous with his wide-eyed stare and gaping mouth.

A husky man with a square face and leathery skin approached him.

"Ya lookin' fer work?" the man asked.

A smile crossed Ikkaku's face. The man reminded him of Kaekae. Forget the difference in their ages, their appearances, and their professions. The man reminded Ikkaku of the old boatman.

"Maybe," Ikkaku replied. "It looks interesting."

"So, ya don' already work 'ere?"

"Uh, well, no, I—"

"Then ya na s'pose ta be here. " The man turned his head over his shoulder. "Birdie! Kasper! Come 'ere!"

Two men joined him.

"Need ta 'scort him out."

"But what if I wanted to work here?" Ikkaku demanded.

The first man cocked his head. "Then ya gots go put ya name in like ever'one else." He looked at Ikkaku and nodded appreciatively. "Ya'd make a good fitter. I'd take ya on ma crew." He looked to Birdie and Kasper. "Ta' 'im to the office. Sees if they can ge' 'im a work t'day."

Less than thirty minutes later, Ikkaku was a shipfitter.

It was not so different than working at the mill in Venla, as far as manual labor went. But the environment was worlds away. Compared to the shipyards, the mill had been almost genteel. Here, a bawdy sense of humor reined; the men were hard-working, hard-drinking, and hard-playing; and disputes were resolved with fists. Fridays were paydays, and Saturdays were wild, followed by repentant Sundays.

The streets outside the shipyards were lined with bars and brothels; and as soon as the horn sounded on Friday, ending the workweek, they were filled to bursting with workers.

Ikkaku fell in quickly with the men and the routine. He had not believed, after leaving Yumichika, that he would ever find any place where he could fit in and feel comfortable again. The shipyards kept him busy and engaged. His coworkers kept his after-work hours filled with intrigue and less-than-noble activities. He went with them to the bars, where he imbibed along with the best of them, sampling spirits he'd never tasted before. When his friends danced on the tables, he danced on the tables. When they picked fights with the steamfitters, he joined in enthusiastically. When they broke into drunken, out-of-tune song that sounded like caterwauling, his voice was the loudest of all. When they staggered back to the Shipyard Blocks, street after street of rowhouses and barracks built by the shipyards strictly to house their workforce, he staggered with the greatest swag.

And when they ambled into the whorehouses, he ambled with them. When they flirted with the women, he flirted with the women. When they disappeared into the back rooms, so did Ikkaku.

But that was where the similarities ended, for while his friends were getting their money's worth of companionship, Ikkaku limited his visits to massages, rub-downs, and the occasional warm body to lie next to for a few hours. And when he met up with his friends the next day and they traded stories, he always deferred, stating that he preferred to keep his private activities private.

He didn't mind going to the brothels. Most of the time, he enjoyed himself. He found the experience relaxing. The women were beautiful sometimes. They were skilled always. And although they found Ikkaku extremely attractive and would have done anything he asked, they never tried to press for more than he was willing to give.

Which was a good thing, for it was what kept Ikkaku going back. The truth was that the brothels reminded him of Yumichika. Not only the fact of Yumichika's former manner of conducting business, but more so the intimate nature of the visits.

Ikkaku had done a good job over the last year and a half of not thinking about his last few hours with Yumichika. He did not want the temptation of memory to send him back to Venla. But whenever a brothel woman put her hands on him, he could not help but contrast it to the feel of Yumichika's hands on him. The scent of the women was sometimes sweet, often heavily perfumed, but never as enticing as Yumichika's scent. And for as often as Ikkaku might have wondered what it would be like to kiss the women, to indulge in the sort of action for which they were paid, he resisted the urge and curiosity. But he could not resist the thoughts of Yumichika that plagued him more and more often, and those thoughts were filled not only with desire but with self-recrimination and regret. Self-recrimination for allowing himself to succumb to his erotic attraction to Yumichika. Regret for everything his weakness had cost him.

His conscience had taken to hammering him constantly, challenging the decisions he had made and daring him to return to Venla. And yet, it also seemed to be quite content with the shipyard environs and the brawny life they entailed, to such a point where Ikkaku found himself wondering if his conscience were faulty or if he were really were so undecided as to where he should be and what he should be doing.

Then, one sweltering afternoon in mid-July, something happened that gave Ikkaku his answer in no uncertain terms.

He had been working in Drydock C, bending tempered wood into the curved line of a timber frame, a long, back-breaking process, when the foreman pulled him off job to go tell Smelthouse 12 that their mix was too brittle and the steel pinnings were breaking . Ikkaku set off and accomplished his tasking, even sparing a moment to listen to some boastful words from the master steelman about how Smelthouse 12 had the best production record. On his way back, as he passed the entrance to Drydock E, he heard a voice call out to him.

"Madarame-dono!"

Ikkaku stopped in his tracks. No one had called him "dono" since he'd left the monastery back in the world of the living. And at the monastery, as a student, he'd only been called "dono" by the servants.

Turning, he recognized the face immediately.

Kufu, Master Hakama's houseboy.

Ikkaku was stunned. Stunned that he should encounter Kufu here, but also stunned that the former houseboy would be found working in such a demanding place as the shipyards.

During the time in which Ikkaku had lived, Kufu would have been referred to as a simpleton, an idiot, or some other term not necessarily derisive but, for the era in question, indicative of his mental state. One of the monastery's charitable missions had been to run a home for those whose mental capacities made them unable to fend for themselves. The monastery endeavored to find simple jobs in the local area for those capable of carrying them out, and they employed a number of them in the monastery as servants, providing room and board and a meaningful, productive existence.

Kufu had been one of those bright enough to pour tea and tidy the master's cell. But Ikkaku would never have thought him capable of working in the shipyards.

"Kufu," Ikkaku said, smiling at the begrimed face beaming back at him.

"You really here!"

Ikkaku could tell just from the way those three words were spoken that Kufu had not been granted any greater intelligence upon his entry to Soul Society. And yet, rather than feeling pity, he envied him somewhat. The joy in the man's eyes was genuine. The generosity of spirit Ikkaku had always felt from him was as present as ever. Kufu was a happy man.

"I just started a couple months ago," Ikkaku replied. "Have you—how long have you been here?"

"Since I comed to Soul Society," Kufu answered. "I gots a good life here."

"I can see that," Ikkaku nodded.

"Hakama-dono gived me a good life. Now, I haves a good life here. All day is hard work and I help make ships."

Ikkaku smiled. "That _is_ a good life."

Kufu knit his brow. "But you . . . it's not a good life for you. You wanted to be a brother. Don't you want it no more?"

"I wasn't cut out for it," Ikkaku answered.

"How you died? In the war? "

"Yeah," Ikkaku replied. He did not want to talk about his death. It had been egregious enough when it had happened. He had no desire to recall it.

"You always was strong. You always could fight good. How come you ended up here?"

Ikkaku shrugged. "It's just one of a lot of places where I've spent some time."

Kufu noticed the sword hanging over Ikkaku's back. Ikkaku never left the weapon out of his possession. The over-the-back sling was the easiest way to carry it while he was working.

"Your sword is strong, like you are."

"Oh, well . . . I like to use it."

Kufu cocked his head to one side. "Here's not right for you, Madarame-dono."

"You don't have to call me dono," Ikkaku shushed him, looking around to make sure no one had heard.

"Here isn't right," Kufu repeated. "You're more than this."

Ikkaku regarded him with a perplexed expression. "More than what? This is good, honest work. It's something to be proud of."

"For me!" Kufu said emphatically. "Not for you. If you stay here, that's like hiding." He pointed to the outer corner of Ikkaku's left eye. "You never was a brother in the living world." He pointed to the corner of the right eye. "Why you can't become one here?"

Ikkaku was astounded. He'd never known how much thinking had actually gone on inside the head of a slow-witted servant. "I don't think the order exists in Soul Society. Besides, I still don't—I still don't really believe in all the things the brothers believed in."

"In the living world, I was only a servant," Kufu grinned. "In Soul Society, I build ships. You don't hafta stay the way you was."

At these words, Ikkaku took a closer look and noticed for the first time that Kufu was wearing a master steelman's badge.

He could not believe it. Where he had assumed, from Kufu's manner of speaking, that the former servant was still simple-minded, he had now discovered that Kufu had a talent that took years of training and practice to obtain proficiency, a talent to be revered and admired.

"I didn't you know you were a master steelman," Ikkaku said. "That's quite an accomplishment."

"Nothing beside what you can do," Kufu said with conviction. "Here is waste of your skill."

"Well, I'm happy here, for the time-being," Ikkaku explained. "When the mood takes me, maybe I'll move on and find whatever it is you think I should be doing."

Kufu bowed. "Madarame-dono."

"And hey, don't do that here. I didn't deserve it back then, and I sure as hell don't deserve it now. Besides, what will everyone think if they see you bowing to me and calling me dono?"

Kufu straightened up. "They'll think what I already knows." He tapped his temple. "You be more than just a laborer." With those words, he gave the broad, silly smile Ikkaku had known him for back at the monastery and headed into the drydock.

Ikkaku found himself grinning the entire way back to Drydock C.

Kufu's words had given him an idea, and that afternoon when the horn sounded the end of the workday, instead of heading out with his crew for a drink or two (after all, it was only Tuesday, so the idea of swamping his liver was out of the question), he went back to the barracks and took a quick bath. Then he grabbed something to eat from one of the shipyard's company stores and headed for Artists Alley.

Artists Alley was a narrow, dank stretch of broken cobblestone, bordered on both sides by blackened brick buildings that, while they only rose up two stories, seemed much higher in that they blocked out the sun and gave the illusion of closing together overhead.

The work of the artists who populated the gallery would not be found in any fancy showcase or traveling circuit. No, their talent adorned the arms, shoulders, chests, backs and even the legs of the men alongside whom Ikkaku worked on a daily basis. They were tattoo artists, and several of them produced exceptionally fine work.

Now, as Ikkaku wandered along the alley as the sun went down, he was not looking for the elaborate grandness offered by some of the artists. He needed only someone with a delicate hand. The job he had in mind was simple but in places where one small mistake could cost him dearly.

He had it from his fellow shipfitters that a man named Mabry had a steady hand and the patience of a saint, whatever that meant. Still, he seen first-hand proof of the man's detail, and he was convinced that such meticulousness required control and precision.

He found Mabry's shop near the northern end of the alley. Going inside, he found two other men already waiting. Ikkaku did not recognize either one of them, but considering almost every inch of visible skin, except their faces, was covered with tattoos, he took the opportunity to study some of the artwork. The men were only too happy to show him not only the visible tattoos, but even those hidden by their clothing. And while such a display might have made Ikkaku uncomfortable under other circumstances, in this case his interest was so keen that the sight of practically nude tattooed bodies didn't faze him in the least.

"You know what you gonna get?" one of the men asked as he got dressed following his unveiling.

"Nothing that complex," Ikkaku replied.

"Took me a long time to get all these," the same man stated. "I started off small."

"I think I'll be starting off small, too."

"Who's starting off small?"

The three men turned their attention to the curtain-hung doorway that led into the back room. Standing there was a hulking man whose head appeared too small for his body and whose pudgy fingers looked anything but delicate and precise.

From what Ikkaku could see, the man had only one simple tattoo on his bare right arm, a black arrow with a splayed vane.

"You got a new customer here, Mabry," the first man announced. "We were showing him your work."

"That so?" Mabry wobbled over and gave Ikkaku a nod of acknowledgment. "First time?"

"Yeah," Ikkaku replied.

"You got anything specific in mind?"

Ikkaku nodded.

Mabry looked to his two other clients. "Give me ten to chat?"

"Go 'head."

Mabry returned his attention to Ikkaku. "Come on in the back."

Ikkaku followed him through the curtain. Mabry motioned to a chair, and Ikkaku took a seat.

"So, what are we looking at?" Mabry asked, sitting on a rolling stool that looked as if it would collapse under his weight. But he was all attention, and that gave Ikkaku peace-of-mind.

"Nothing big. I want red marks here," Ikkaku explained, touching the corners of his eyes and making a sweeping motion up towards his brows.

Mabry nodded, looking closely at Ikkaku's eyes. "That'd be a good look for you."

"And I also, uh, I want to get, uh . . . well, this is kind of hard for me—"

"You want the Dokushin Circle."

Ikkaku regarded him with surprise. "How did you know?"

"The shaved head, the okibi _(*author's note: blazing fire, meant to refer to the red marks)_. It wasn't hard to guess," Mabry said with a satisfied grin. "I was a history buff in the world of the living. And I did tattoos there, too. So, I spent a lot of time studying the history of tattoos. A lot of those celibate orders of monks and priests made the Dokushin Circle part of their tradition. Pretty risky in the early days. I mean, that's a sensitive area, huh? But in my era, it wasn't so dangerous anymore." He nodded to himself in assessment. "It'll take me one session to do the okibi – three or four hours. That's another touchy area, so I like to go slowly. And I won't lie to you. It's gonna hurt. Another three or four sessions to do the Dokushin. I don't think you'll be able to take much more than fifteen minutes at a time for that one."

"What's the cost?" Ikkaku asked.

"You work in the shipyards?"

Ikkaku nodded.

"Hmm. A week's pay."

"I don't know if that's good or not," Ikkaku stated.

"Believe me, it's good." Mabry looked at the dog-eared calendar on the wall behind him. "Can you come in next Friday, 6pm, for your first go? That way, you can take the weekend to stay home and take it easy. You don't want them to get infected."

"Yeah, I can do that."

"What's your name?"

"Ikkaku Madarame."

Mabry wrote him in. "All set."

Ikkaku stood up, but before leaving, he asked, "Am I the only one who's ever asked for this?"

"Here in Soul Society, yes. But in the world of the living, those orders all had men who specialized in doing that work. Some were members of the orders, others were permanent residents but without the vows." He paused. "I was one of the latter."

"You—you did tattoos for religious orders in the world of the living?" Ikkaku blurted out.

"Hundreds of them."

"Okibi and Dokushin?"

"And others you probably have never heard of. Not all orders had the same practices." He stood up. "But I can assure you, I have enough experience that you can feel sure you'll get a good result." A pause. "But I am curious. Are you a brother?"

Ikkaku hesitated. "No," he admitted. "But I—I'm working on it."

Mabry appeared perplexed. "But the only ones who can confer belonging are the heads of the orders. And the orders don't exist here in Soul Society."

"I know."

Mabry wasn't sure how to take Ikkaku's answer. Still, a customer was a customer. "It must be something you really want to keep pursuing it even here in this world."

"It is," Ikkaku answered. The truth was that as recently as only a few hours ago, he hadn't known what he'd wanted. But running into Kofu and then discovering that Mabry had been a monastery tattooist . . . it may have been some cosmic convergence.

Or it might just be that Ikkaku had been wrong in all his years of doubt and disbelief. Maybe there were forces at work that he didn't understand. Either way, something he had never been able to attain in life was here for the taking – even if it were only the surface symbols. He already had a head start on the warrior aspect. Now, he would see if, despite Hakama's words of wisdom, a change in aptitude could be willed or not.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26 The Meeting in Guckoo

_Who are you now, first love of mine?  
><em>_If you could see, you'd reach out for me.  
><em>_In hallways and in secret doorways  
><em>_were love's hiding places,  
><em>_with nowhere to go.  
><em>_Goodbye to the fields and byways.  
><em>_I'll remember saying I don't want to leave.  
><em>_Cause you were all there was to know about me._

_Who Are You Now?  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p>The clouds were not breaking up. They gave no appearance of dispersing any time soon, and the rain was coming down now as steadily as it had been for the last three hours, a rather long-lived late summer thunderstorm.<p>

Yumichika peered out from the entrance of the derelict post station in which he'd taken refuge. The storm had come up quickly, catching him unexpectedly out in the open. But a few of the quick steps, and he had come upon the old, abandoned wooden structure a few meters off the old post road, a road apparently once heavily travelled but not anymore.

Yumichika had used the storm as a reason to catch up on some much-needed sleep, for he had been moving almost nonstop for the past two and a half months.

With Ruri'iro Kujaku's assurance that they were drawing ever-closer, needing only minimal course corrections, Yumichika had been the one to set such a pace. He apparently had a lot of ground to cover after having gone so far astray.

Now, as he stood looking out and lamenting the rain that was putting a stall on his progress, he heard the reikon call to him.

He sat down, closed his eyes and entered his inner world.

Ruri'iro Kujaku was waiting for him in the maroon room.

"It looks like we'll be here a while," the zanpakuto stated from where he lounged in the center of the bed, surrounded by pillows and luxurious linens.

Yumichika felt a smile forming. Ruri'iro Kujaku knew so well how to entice him; the peacock was an exhibitionist of the first order. His only inhibitions seemed to have as their focus his master, for whom he felt responsible, being that Yumichika tended to get carried away with physical closeness whenever a certain line was crossed. Ruri'iro still had not quite pinpointed the location of that line.

"Oh, I don't know," Yumichika replied playfully, crossing his arms. "I was going to set off in the rain anyway. I'd just get a little wet, that's all. I've already spent half the day in here. We're losing time."

Ruri'iro Kujaku shrugged. "We're not losing time. We just need to make good use of the delay."

Yumichika walked over to stand in front of him. "What do you have in mind?" he asked expectantly.

The reikon stood up to his full height. He held out his arm and the sword materialized in his hand.

Yumichika hid his disappointment. He'd been hoping for something a little less contentious and a little more intimate. Still, a spar was better than nothing.

"If you wish," he said with a mild grin. "Lead the way."

"Right here," Ruri'iro Kujaku replied.

"Here? We'll destroy the room." Yumichika was incredulous.

"If we do, we do," Ruri'iro replied. "It will restore itself."

Yumichika wasn't convinced. "I don't know—"

He got no further before Ruri'iro came at him with a chest-level slice, forcing him to jump back and bring forth his own weapon.

He blocked the next swipe, but the force of it pushed him to the edge of the bed, where he teetered for several seconds as Ruri'iro advanced with another blow, knocking him over the edge.

The bed stood at least ten feet above the floor, but Yumichika was able to somersault, landing on his feet. He raised his head to smirk up at Ruri'iro Kujaku, but was met with a foot against his shoulder. He slammed down onto his back.

Ruri'iro's sword came swinging down, but Yumichika managed to block it at the last moment. Still, the reikon bore down, pressing the blade closer, using his greater weight and strength until it was against Yumichika's throat.

Ruri'iro Kujaku knelt over him, keeping the pressure on but only enough to keep him pinned. "You never fight me seriously," he said.

"You catch me off-guard," Yumichika replied. "I never even have a chance." He smiled. "Besides, losing to you isn't so bad." He dropped his sword and drew Ruri'iro Kujaku down on top of him.

Ruri'iro chuckled as he pushed up onto his hands and knees. "Even when you lose, you win."

"I like it that way," Yumichika replied, pulling him back down beside him. "Do you remember that day when—when we were able to see each other clearly?" he asked.

Ruri'iro nodded. "How could I forget?"

Yumichika was pensive. "We haven't been able to see each other like that since then."

"That's true."

"Why do you think that is? Yumichika asked. "For all the times we've sparred since then, for all the times I've taken your reiatsu . . . I've never seen you clearly again."

Ruri'iro Kujaku had many thoughts on why this was, but to voice them now would only put enmity back between him and his master. The truth was better left unsaid in this case.

"It could still happen," he put forth, opting for safety and the least contentious approach.

"It happened the first time you showed me how to use your ability," Yumichika went on. "Maybe it would happen again if—if you used your ability on me."

His words set off an alarm in the reikon's head.

"No, kimi, that's not a good idea," came the reply, spoken slowly and deliberately.

"But you've never used your released form against me," Yumichika pressed. "Shouldn't I know what it feels like to be ensnared by my own weapon?"

Ruri'iro Kujaku eyed him with scrutiny. "You want to know what it feels like?"

"Yes," Yumichika replied. "I know how it feels to use your power. I want to know how it feels to be the victim of it."

Ruri'iro Kujaku was not fooled. "You're hoping that you'll feel that same euphoria as when you used me properly for the first time."

A faint blush showed in Yumichika's cheeks, but it quickly vanished. "Yes."

"And you're hoping that, in that euphoria, you'll be able to see me clearly again," Ruri'iro went on.

"Yes."

On one hand, the reikon was thrilled that his master wanted to see him so badly that he was willing to experience his own subjugation. On the other hand, it was clear that his master had no idea what that subjugation entailed. There was simply no way Ruri'iro Kujaku could grant his wish without injuring him. And that might have been his own fault, for he could not be sure that, once he began to drain an opponent's reiatsu, he would be able to refrain from draining it all. He had never been tried, and he feared that once he was unleashed, he would be compelled to continue the job until it was finished. And _finished_ meant the death of his opponent.

In the instances when his master had ensnared him and used his own power against him, the fact that it _was_ his own ability had enabled him to withstand most of the drain. Even so, it was not a pleasant feeling. There was nothing enjoyable about it, other than the breathless thrill of being at his master's mercy, even if it were only an illusionary mercy, being that Ruri'iro Kujaku had always been the one truly in control.

"Master, it's a very different feeling when you're taking reiatsu than when you're the one losing it," he explained.

"But you're always alright after I've used it on you," Yumichika persisted. "And you were able to see me clearly after that first time—"

"That's because _it was_ the first time," Ruri'iro pointed out. "We both had that moment of clarity, not simply because you used my ability. It was because you used me properly for the first time. It was the moment of first understanding me. And it was the first time I knew I could trust you to wield me in the manner for which I created. "

"But I—"

"Kimi, you do not want to feel what it's like to be my victim," Ruri'iro cut him off. "And besides . . . I don't know if I'd be able to stop before killing you. And that would be the end of me, as well."

"But you've healed me just by touching me—"

"Yes? Is it impossible for you to understand that the same hand that can give life can also take life? Just because I'm able to heal you, that doesn't mean I can't kill you," Ruri'iro explained. He paused. "And even if I could control the taking, I would still never want you to feel what it's like to have your reiatsu drained away."

Yumichika sighed and nodded his concession.

"Are you angry?" the reikon asked.

"No, just . . . disappointed," Yumichika replied. "I wanted to know what it felt like. I didn't know you couldn't stop at will."

"Maybe I can," Ruri'iro said. "We've never used my released form against a real opponent. And I'm not going to test it out on you."

Yumichika was silent for several seconds, then said the only thing that was really on his mind. "I want to see you that way again."

This simple admission swelled Ruri'iro Kujaku's heart. His master wanted to see him clearly. He wanted to see his beauty. Ruri'iro could not have asked for a more poignant expression of his master's admiration. And even though it was not in his power to grant his desire, he would do everything he could to ensure Yumichika always felt that way about him.

And then perhaps, he might be able to find a way to grant his master's wish. For it was his wish, also.

He moved closer, but then suddenly he detected a stricken burst of fear, and in the next instant Yumichika was gone.

* * *

><p>Yumichika remerged into the outer world with a startled cry. He opened his eyes onto the face of a man he had never seen before and in whose grasp he was being held fast, pressed down against the flagstone floor.<p>

Yumichika immediately began to fight, but it was useless. The man was much bigger than he was and was actually getting a thrill at the feel of someone struggling against him. His laughter was sinister, taunting.

"Look what we found," he grinned, and then Yumichika noticed, in his periphery, at least one other man standing behind his attacker. "There's all kinds of surprises out here today."

Yumichika grew still and tried to feel if his zanpakuto was still beside him. It wasn't. He raised his eyes to see the other man turning the weapon over in his hands, looking at it with a glint in his eye.

The very sight of Ruri'iro Kujaku in the hands of another man was enough to make his blood boil. But in a contest of pure strength, he would never be able to defeat these two men and get the weapon back. He would have to find a way to trick them into letting their guard down long enough for him to get his hands on the zanpakuto.

"Don't stop fighting," the man on top of him demanded. "If you stop fighting, I'll kill you right now."

Yumichika looked at him through half-closed eyes. "I have something better to do than fight," he said in a mesmerizing voice.

The man made a deep, guttural sound, and Yumichika knew he had him. He'd never had any doubt of prevailing. He'd perfected the use of his allure to the point where he hardly had to try anymore against depraved minds such as this one.

"Show me," the man said, his voice dripping with lurid hunger.

"Both of you," Yumichika whispered. "I want both of you."

The very idea was repulsive, but he would only need suffer the horror for a few seconds. As soon as Ruri'iro Kujaku was in his hand, it would be over – and quickly.

The second man set Ruri'iro Kujaku down against the wall and joined his companion. They both stood leering.

The first man got up and pulled Yumichika to his feet. "Take off your clothes," he ordered.

Yumichika slowly untied the obi at his waist, measuring each movement for the greatest effect. He held it out in front of him at arm's length and let it slide through his fingers to the floor. Then, as he parted the folds of his kimono, he took a step forward.

"Why don't you finish undressing me?" he suggested in a breathy voice.

The first man smiled. He moved around behind him, slid the kimono from Yumichika's shoulders, and tossed it aside. The second man stood by, too mesmerized by the sight of the supple body to do anything but stare.

With no one between him and his zanpakuto, Yumichika now sprang forward, and in the blink of an eye, the weapon was in his hand and drawn.

He had now only to say the words.

"Sakikirue . . . Ruri'iro Kujaku!"

The blade split into four scythes in a burst of blue-green light. An instant later, they elongated into the vines and sprang forward to ensnare the two men. Yumichika was not consciously controlling the actions of the vines, and yet he knew they could not have come alive without him willing it. That part of Ruri'iro Kujaku belonged exclusively to him – the ability to incite the zanpakuto to action. And Ruri'iro Kujaku could not ignite his power without his master speaking the command.

And this was the first time he had spoken the words against a real enemy. Only moments earlier he had been listening to Ruri'iro Kujaku bemoan the fact that he had yet to be tested in the real world. And now, here was the opportunity.

Ruri'iro Kujaku's swift response astounded Yumichika. There'd been no hesitation. Everything happened in the blink of an eye. The two enemies had been immediately targeted and immobilized. Then, without any effort on his own part, Yumichika watched as Ruri'iro Kujaku drained the men's spirit energy in a matter of seconds. The vines formed only a handful of buds, and when they bloomed, it was clear that the two men were dead. The vines released them but did not recede.

"_Master?"_

Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice echoed in his head.

Yumichika did not answer right away. He was too stunned by the sight of the two dead men lying on the ground. He had fought before, but only with Ruri'iro's sword form. And he had never killed those adversaries, settling for doling out living defeats. This was something else altogether, and the speed with which it had happened was almost overwhelming. He'd had absolutely no control once he'd released Ruri'iro Kujaku. The zanpakuto had done what came naturally to him, and there had been no in between. Both Ruri'iro Kujaku and Yumichika now had the answer to the question they'd been pondering only moments ago. Ruri'iro Kujaku could not restrain his own power once it was set free, and Yumichika had not been able to control it either.

Now, Yumichika was feeling the rush of excitement that came with wielding a power so devastating. But at the same time, he was feeling a sense of fear at the fact that he'd been completely unable to regulate that power. He'd been nothing more than the voice that had commanded its release, the hand that bore it to the fight.

"_Master? Do you want to recall me?"_

"Yes," Yumichika whispered.

The vines receded.

When Yumichika said nothing and did not move even to return Ruri'iro Kujaku to his scabbard, the zanpakuto spoke again.

"_Master, are you alright?"_

After a considerable silence, Yumichika replied in a thin voice. "They're dead."

"_Yes."_

"It was over so . . . quickly."

"_I know."_

"I didn't even—I didn't—know it was happening," Yumichika said quietly. "And now I don't know how to feel."

But Ruri'iro Kujaku could sense it in his master's reiatsu. The thrill clearly outweighed any concern he might have had over his lack of command. There was no remorse, except over the short duration of the event. His master had wanted to savor the moment.

It was a part of Yumichika the reikon had not known existed.

"_You will have to learn how to control my released form in the outside world,"_ Ruri'iro stated, not quite ready to address the strange sadistic pulse he felt in his master's spirit energy. "_Now, you see I was right not to want to try out my power against you."_

"But it wasn't my intent to kill them," Yumichika protested.

"_Yes, it was."_

"No, I didn't feel that until I released you, and then it was all over so quickly—"

"_Master, when you release me, I am at your command. But you can't command me because you aren't able to control your own impulses yet. You wanted to kill them. Otherwise, they wouldn't be dead," _Ruri'iro explained. _"It's different out there than it is in here. In my world, I can temper you. But when you release me out there, it has to be all your doing. I can't stop myself out there. You have to do that."_

"How am I going to do that? You're too powerful. Your ability is too tempting." Yumichika sounded like he was speaking in a dream.

Ruri'iro Kujaku could not argue that point. "It _is_ a beautiful way of fighting. What a magnificent feeling."

Suddenly, Yumichika wanted very badly to see him. "Come to me."

Ruri'iro Kujaku materialized in front of him, and if Yumichika were not mistaken, the reikon's swirling colors appeared even more vibrant than usual. He knew immediately that the zanpakuto was very happy.

"You—you liked it as much as I did?" Yumichika asked in a tentative voice.

"It's my first time absorbing and adding to my own riatsu," Ruri'iro Kujaku answered. "The more I gain, the more that will be available to you."

"Available to me? What do you mean?"

"Apparently, when I absorb reiatsu, it stays with me," the peacock replied. He reached out and touched his master's cheek.

Yumichika felt a powerful tingle run through his body.

Ruri'iro Kujaku glowed like a lantern. "You see? And then, just like my own reiatsu, it's always there for our use."

"So . . . there's no end to how powerful you can become," Yumichika said.

"So it would seem." The reikon took a step closer and stared at his master. "Does that frighten you?"

"Maybe it should, but the way I feel after what just happened, I want—I want you to grow more powerful. And I want . . . " He paused to choose his words. "I feel like we should be . . . more together."

Ruri'iro smiled indulgently. "More together? Kimi . . . we've grown closer these past months, but there is still a great part of you that is inaccessible to me, and much of me that you have not mastered yet, that you don't even know of yet." A pause. "There are still barriers between us."

"How do we overcome them?" Yumichika asked.

"I don't know," Ruri'iro answered. "I suppose it just takes time and . . . a greater deal of trust." He paused. "And then practice."

"Practice?"

"This is the first time you've used me against a real opponent," Ruri'iro said. "With more experience, you should be able to tame your intentions before releasing me. But I don't know how to give you my full power. I don't even know what that power is. I only know we're a long way from it. And I know I can't get there without you."

"But we can still do it," Yumichika said. He moved closer until he was pressed chest to chest against him. "Ruri'iro Kujaku . . . I want to feel what it's like to be one with you."

The reikon was baffled. "To be . . . one?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Yumichika said in a low voice. "Even though it happened so quickly, I felt it. There was something when I used you. There's always something when you touch me. It's like . . . joining together. For just that little bit of time, it's like we're in union."

Ruri'iro Kujaku faltered. His master was feeling and sensing something that he himself was not.

"I don't know what you're talking about, master."

"It's—it's more fulfilling than any other experience I've ever had, but it's not complete," Yumichika went on, pressing his pelvis against the reikon's.

Ruri'iro felt conflicting emotions. He was overjoyed that his master desired him, and yet he could see quite clearly that Yumichika was envisioning a physical union. It was the prospect of some manner of bodily contact beyond anything they had already experienced. And he could not fault him. He was well aware that his master sought out sensation, that the pain of the past had not frightened him away from the sensual part of his nature. Yumichika was hungry, almost desperate for the intimacy of that day by the pool above Venla. And now, he was privy to a closeness that even Ruri'iro Kujaku was not aware of, clearly thinking that a sexual encounter was the gateway to even greater heights.

And yet, Ruri'iro could not forget the long, intervening months of estrangement and hurt. His master had shut him out; and although things were very near blissful now, Ruri'iro was not able to shake the fear in the back of his mind that he could very easily lose Yumichika again. As they drew closer to the object of their months-long search, that fear became more persistent, even as Yumichika's attentiveness to Ruri'iro Kujaku increased. It could all turn in a moment. Ruri'iro knew this. He had not fooled himself into thinking he was the most important thing in his master's life.

Looking down at Yumichika now, he wished he knew how to bring them into the union of which his master spoke so passionately. But if it were a sexual thing, it would never come to pass. That could do nothing but damage their relationship and stunt their growing together in strength and prowess. If some sort of further combining of their natures were possible, it was not something he could will or simply bring about through his own actions. He wasn't sure what such a union would feel or look like. He only knew that at his master's current level of ability, there remained much work to be done. It was clear to him that Yumichika's use of him was still in two stages: the taking of energy from the victim, which was accomplished through his Ruri'iro Kujaku; and the absorption of that energy into his own body. His master did not yet possess the ability to combine both actions into one at will. That would at least be a starting point. But how to bring it about? He didn't know.

Right now, all he felt was Yumichika pressing against him suggestively, unleashing every smidgen of his seductive power in order to seduce him.

"Kimi, calm yourself," he rebuked, but his manner was indulgent. "Whatever it is, if it is going to happen, it has to happen on its own. For now, just be happy that you were able to wield me successfully for the first time."

Yumichika slid his arms around the reikon's waist. "It didn't feel the way I thought it would. It was very . . . arousing." A pause. "I want that feeling again," Yumichika said softly into the bare skin of Ruri'iro's shoulder.

"You are insatiable," Ruri'iro Kujaku chastised lightly. "Focus on what you just accomplished, learning to better control me against real enemies. The rest will come eventually."

"Did it feel good to you?" Yumichika asked.

"It felt wonderful," Ruri'iro replied. "You were powerful without even trying."

"You're the one who's powerful," Yumichika said. "And I wish you'd use that power on me."

Ruri'iro Kujaku gazed down atYumichika with a warmth that needed no words. And yet, he felt guilty. He was not being a good servant to this soul whom he adored. He was being deceptive. And here, when he needed to distract his master's attention from his current erotic desires, was a good chance to come clean and be the obedient zanpakuto he suspected he should be.

He embraced Yumichika, breathed a long, deep sigh . . .

And waited.

He felt the small jolt of his master's body against his own at the same moment he felt his flare of reiatsu.

Yumichika drew back suddenly. "Did you—do you feel that?"

He broke away completely and held his head up as if trying to hear a voice on the wind.

Ruri'iro Kujaku said nothing.

Several seconds passed before Yumichika, smiling excitedly, burst out, "It's his reiatsu! I can feel Ikkaku's reiatsu!" He turned to his zanpakuto. "Do you feel it?"

The peacock was smiling in an odd way, a mixture of sadness and satisfaction. "Yes, I feel it." A pause. In an instant, his master had completely forgotten about the thrill of using him for the first time. Yumichika's desire for him was immediately squelched. Ruri'iro had known this would happen, and he'd made a conscious decision to do it anyway. "I've been able to feel it continually for the past several days now. I knew we were getting close, and I—I blocked it from you, because I didn't want you to get your hopes up until I was sure we would find him."

But Yumichika was too overjoyed to be angry at Ruri'iro for blocking him. "So, you're sure? You know where he is?"

Ruri'iro nodded minutely. "I can pinpoint him now."

"Then, let's go! We must be very close."

"Kimi, slow down," Ruri'iro chastened. "He's not going anywhere that we can't find him. You need to think about what you're going to do and say when you see him. It's been over a year, and don't forget – he left you under false pretenses. He told you he would come back. He lied to you. He may not be so happy to see you now."

The words were spoken with sincerity; there was not a hint of jealousy, although sadness was discernable. They immediately had a calming effect on Yumichika's fiery anticipation. "You're right," he conceded, putting a hand on Ruri'iro's arm. "But we knew that from the beginning. We didn't come all this way to turn back because Ikkaku might be angry. You know how he is – he'll say and do all kinds of stupid, thoughtless things; but he'll come to understand eventually."

"I hope so, for your sake," Ruri'iro replied.

Yumichika was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice verged on breaking. "I—I wasn't sure you were really leading me to him," he admitted. "I knew you hated him and the whole idea of going to look for him. And I knew I had treated you badly, so . . . after all these months of walking and never seeming to get any closer, I still didn't completely believe you were trying to help me. I'm sorry. I should have trusted you."

"It's not your trust I want," Ruri'iro Kujaku replied. "I want you to love me. If you love me, then it won't matter if sometimes you find it hard to trust me."

"Well, I should have trusted you," Yumichika said. "And I should have been better to you."

A wan smile crossed the kujaku's face. He still wasn't going to get a profession of love from his master. After all these years, he'd still never heard the words. While he certainly believed his master loved him on some level, he would have liked to hear him say as much.

"We can set out when the rain stops," Ruri'iro said. "It looks like it will be clearing up soon."

"I don't mind getting wet," Yumichika replied.

The false smile was still in place. "As you wish, kimi-san."

* * *

><p>The whiskey burned the back of Ikkaku's throat as he tossed it down in one shot. He didn't even taste it, but taste was not the object.<p>

He was going for numbness.

He was due at Mabry's in fifteen minutes for the fifth and final appointment.

He now proudly sported the Okibi and was three-quarters of the way through the Dokushin. And while he had made it through the pain of the Okibi with a stone-faced stoicism, it took only five seconds for him to realize that the only way he was going to get the Dokushin was to be stone-cold drunk.

A handful of his fellow workers were only too happy to assist him in that regard. They had accompanied him each Friday to the local pubs in order to usher along the process. Afterwards, they went with him to Mabry's and hung out with the intention of keeping his mind off the pain – a job at which they had mixed success. Being aware of the bodily location where Ikkaku was getting his tattoo, they appreciated his bravery, while cringing at the very prospect.

On this evening of the final appointment, they went first to a bar just outside the main gates of the shipyard and got an early start. Whiskey was not something Ikkaku had drank much of until coming to Guckoo, but it was fast-acting and long-lasting. That was all he needed at the moment.

Ninety minutes after the first drink, he had downed his eighth and was ready to head out the door. His companions cleared a path for him, making a big deal of the fact that their friend was "risking emasculation for the final time!" and "on the brink of redefining manhood!" Ikkaku, too intoxicated to mind all the attention, waved and nodded like royalty on his way out the door and past the small crowd of patrons standing outside the already over-crowded pub.

Ikkaku's group, seven men in all, stumbled and staggered towards Mabry's. The streets were filled with people milling about, drinking, smoking, flirting, and looking for action – all kinds of action.

As the shipyard workers passed by a bar popular with longshoremen, they once again parted the throng of men like a king's advanced guard.

"Make way for a real man! Move aside, pussy-wipes! Shipfitter coming through!"

The longshoremen and the shipfitters had a long-running rivalry, and both sides were always ready for a confrontation; and the truth was that Ikkaku, on this evening in particular, was primed for a brawl. He could be a few minutes late to his appointment. What the hell difference would it make?

"Real men? I don't see any real men!" several of the longshoremen shouted back, posturing and obstructing the shipfitters' path. "Just a bunch of _shit_fitters." This brought a round of inebriated laughter from the crowd outside the pub.

"At least our shit fits," one of the shipfitters called back, turning the play on words back on the longshoremen. "You sons-of-bitches should be called _short_shoremen, cause your shit couldn't fill a one-inch hole! My little finger could do better!"

More laughter.

"The way you fucks roll, you be fitting the shit in where the shit comes out!" the longshoremen roared with hilarity.

Even the shipfitters themselves had to laugh at that one.

"Yeah, we'd be fitting it in! And you'd be longing for _shore_!" came the retort, yet another masterstroke of wit, swapping out _sure_ for _shore_. "Real men do the fitting. Pusses do the longing!"

It was an old argument, filled with the same clichés and insults. But there was something refreshing about it even in its staleness. It was just what Ikkaku needed at the moment.

"You wanna see a real man? I'll show ya a real man!" he slurred. He bared himself from the waist down to the approving howls of the gathered crowd. "Look and be amazed!" he crowed.

Both rival groups were now bellowing with laughter.

Ikkaku robed himself again, and opened his arms to the longshoremen. "So, who's gonna take a shot? Go on! One free shot! Then it's all in!"

As it turned out, the shot didn't come from a longshoreman, and it wasn't directed at Ikkaku. One of the shipfitters leapt forward and belted the nearest longshoreman, simply to get things rolling.

It was hardly a serious fight. It was a sloppy, intoxicated brawl, the worst injuries of which were bruises, black eyes and a few bloody noses.

For his own part, Ikkaku walked away with a sizeable knot on the side of his head, a split lip, and a few bumps and bruises. There was no pursuit, and there were no dead men left behind. And they could still get to Mabry's and only be twenty minutes late.

They crowed and screamed and laughed as they went on their way, fresh with vigor from the altercation. They were a rowdy bunch.

Ikkaku stopped at a public trough to splash some water on his face and wipe away the blood and dirt. His companions continued on and were a short distance ahead of him.

"I see some things haven't changed."

Ikkaku startled at the sound of the voice. He whirled around and stood staring and speechless in the fading light of the evening. He wondered if he were having an alcohol-induced hallucination.

Yumichika stood in the shadows several meters away, a slight grin on his lips, his arms crossed in front of him, a satchel resting on the ground beside him.

It took Ikkaku several seconds to find his voice. "Yumichika." He gave a quick glance back at his companions who were looking on with interest. "Uh, you all go on ahead. I'll be there soon. Tell Mabry not to give away my appointment."

It would have been very easy for the men to give Ikkaku a hard time, but instead they left with nothing more than suggestively raised eyebrows and comical smirks.

When Ikkaku turned back, he found Yumichika standing right in front of him, looking every bit as beautiful as when he'd last seen him over a year ago.

"Good thing I showed up when I did," Yumichika said, making a cursory visual examination. "But you don't look too badly banged up, although what happened back there could hardly be called a fight."

Ikkaku took him by the shoulders and directed him back into a recessed doorway, out of view of anyone who might pass by. "What are you doing here?" he asked urgently, a loopy sobriety forcing its way to the surface in the face of this unexpected encounter.

"I came looking for you," Yumichika replied evenly. He reached up to examine the knot on Ikkaku's head, but Ikkaku took a step back.

"How did you find me?"

"I followed your reiatsu."

This was too incredible to be believed. "My reiatsu? Have you been following me all this time?"

"No, I started out at the end of August."

"The end of . . . that was a year ago. You've been searching for me all that time?"

"As you see." Yumichika inclined his head.

"And you were able to sense my reiatsu all the way from Venla? I don't—how is that possible?"

"I didn't sense it from Venla. I wandered for months with no idea where to find you. And then I got lucky. I . . . got word of you, and as I drew closer, I was able to pick up your reiatsu. Even so, it was difficult."

Ikkakus shook his head in astonishment. "But . . . why did you come looking for me?"

"Because you didn't come back."

The bluntness with which the words were spoken drove Ikkaku to a guilty silence.

Yumichika went on. "I waited as long as I could, but you never came back. You never intended to return, did you?"

He received no answer.

"Why did you lie to me?" Yumichika asked plaintively. "You could have told me the truth. I would have come with you – without complaint."

Ikkaku lowered his eyes. "I know. That's why I didn't tell you."

Yumichika had expected this. "Ikkaku, I know you were trying to protect me from your father, and you were right to do so. After you left, I saw him for the man he really was. Everything you told me was true. I'm sorry I tried to butt in. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you."

Ikkaku frowned and turned away. "Protecting you from my father was only part of the reason I left, Yumichika."

"What's the other part?"

Ikkaku swallowed. He could take a sliver of truth and weave a lie around it. That way, he wouldn't feel quite as horrible over what he was about to do.

"It was just . . . too long a time to be in one place," he began. "It was time for me to move on. I knew you were happy there, and I didn't want to take you away."

Yumichika regarded him with a smirk. "That wasn't a convincing lie at all. Which is surprising, considering all the practice you've had."

Ikkaku shook his head. "Yumichika, don't."

"Come on, Ikkaku. After twenty years, for you to suddenly decide it's been long enough . . . that doesn't make sense. Even for you."

"Yumichika . . . "

"Well, it doesn't matter," Yumichika stated emphatically. "I'm here now, so I'm going to go on with you."

"What?"

"I didn't come all this way just to turn back. I'm going to stay with you."

Ikkaku shook his head resolutely. "No. No. Yumichika, that isn't a good idea. I don't want you with me."

"Obviously," Yumichika replied. "But you don't always get what you want."

"Yumichika . . . "

"We're wasting time. I'm not going back. I'm staying with you, whether you want me to or not," Yumichika said brusquely. He stepped around him, picked up the satchel and turned back to face him. "Besides . . . admit it, you missed me, didn't you?"

Ikkaku felt a blast of Yumichika's reiatsu buffet him then vanish. He was flabbergasted. Yumichika had mastered control of his spirit energy. The brief flash of reiatsu, so quickly squelched, was a purposeful demonstration of this newly developed ability – and the immensity of the power Yumichika now wielded.

It took several seconds for Ikkaku to reply. "It wouldn't matter if I missed you or not, Yumichika. I want to be on my own again. That's why I left."

But Yumichika was not convinced, and he was stubborn.

"I don't believe a single word you're saying," he said. "But I suppose we'll found out if that's true over the coming months."

"Yumichika—"

"Ikkaku, after everything I've been through to find you, there's no way I'm going back now," Yumichika asserted. "You're just going to have to get used to me again."

"Yumichika, look around you. This is where I'm living now. This isn't a safe place for you," he said, trying a different tack.

"If it's safe enough for you, it safe enough for me," Yumichika replied.

"Yumichika, these men . . . you won't be welcome," Ikkaku struggled.

"Because I'm not tough enough?"

"For a whole bunch of reasons. I mean, look at you. You stand out like—like—" Ikkaku couldn't finish the comparison, so Yumichika did.

"Like a peacock among crows?" Yumichika grinned provocatively. "Besides, I always stand out."

Ikkaku resisted the temptation. "You wouldn't like it here. This isn't the life for you."

Yumichika was still smiling in an untroubled manner. "Ikkaku, wherever you are is where I want to be. I can adjust."

"Yumichika, you're not listening to me," Ikkaku groaned, taking firm hold of Yumichika's arms in a forceful manner. "You can't stay with me. I live in the shipyard barracks. There's no way—"

"I can live there with you—"

"That's impossible," Ikkaku replied. "It's only for men who work in the shipyards."

"So, I'll get a job in the shipyards," Yumichika persisted. "Or we can find a place to live together. You know I don't need much—"

Ikkaku jerked him once. "Would you listen to me? I don't want you here," he ground out. "It's too dangerous. You should have stayed in Venla. I've gone back to the way I used to live and I like it. I don't plan to change."

Yumichika was undeterred. "I won't ask you to change. I just want to be with you again."

Ikkaku did not know what to do. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to be furious. He wanted to pound the walls with his fists and shake some sense in Yumichika's pretty addlepated head. He wanted to send him back to Venla, and he wanted to never let him out of his sight again. He wanted to turn and keep walking; he wanted to wrap his arms around him and once again experience the most pleasant feelings he had ever known.

He wanted to feel the joy.

But he feared there would be only pain.

At last, his breath trailed out of him in a long, heavy sigh. "Yumichika, I didn't think I would ever see you again. It's been a long time. Things have changed." He set him back at arm's length and released him.

Yumichika looked at him with a furrowed brow. "Things didn't look so different from what I just saw."

"That's not what I'm talking about—"

Yumichika was not going to tolerate the distance between them. He took a step forward and reached up his hand to caress Ikkaku's cheek. "Then what are you talking about?"

Ikkaku, aggravated now, took Yumichika's hand in a crushing grip. "This! This is what I'm talking about! This—it isn't going to happen again, Yumichika. It never should have happened in the first place!"

Yumichika looked alarmed for a moment, recalling Ruri'iro Kujaku's worries over the other presence he was sensing around Ikkaku. "Is there someone else?"

Ikkaku stood dumbfounded for a moment before pushing him away and blurting out, "Don't be stupid! There isn't anyone else. How could there be anyone else?" He looked away in agitation. "The point is there shouldn't have been anyone in the first place." A pause. " I don't feel that way about you, and we—we—we . . . " His thoughts were racing so fast that he could not piece together what he wanted to say.

Yumichika was frozen. While he'd been apprehensive about how their reunion might take place, what Ikkaku might say to him, how well he'd receive him, he'd not expected anything like this. It was a flat-out rejection, a repudiation of everything they'd been through together since their first meeting twenty-five years ago. This wasn't about Ikkaku trying to protect him from his father, for that threat was past; and it made Yumichika wonder if Ikkaku had been using his father as an excuse to do what he really wanted to do, which was to get away from him, to return to the vagrant's life, to make his own rules, and as he'd stated before, break those same rules as often as possible.

No. No, that was simply not possible! Ikkaku's affection for him had been genuine. He was certain of it. And the passion, the intimacy they had shared that last day and night on the riverbank – that had been real and substantial, the culmination of years of ever-increasing attachment and understanding.

"What about what happened on the riverbank?" he demanded, his voice growing edgy.

"That never should have happened—"

"How can you—"

"It was the heat of the moment, Yumichika," Ikkaku insisted. "We were both caught up in it, and it was wrong. We shouldn't feel that way about each other."

Yumichika shook his head slowly. "But . . . we do."

"No, we don't. Maybe you do, but I don't. That's why I stopped."

Yumichika felt short of breath. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears and feel the warmth expanding into his limbs. "I don't believe you," he asserted. "You—you love me."

"I've never said that," Ikkaku said flatly.

Yumichika stared at him with disbelief and anger in his eyes. He would not allow the hurt to show. "Why are you doing this? Why are you saying these things?"

Ikkaku hesitated. The truth was that he didn't know why he was doing it. And at the moment, he did not want to ponder the possible reasons. The longer he delayed here, the greater the suspicions his absence would arouse in his coworkers, the more attention he and Yumichika would attract, and the more explaining he would have to do.

"Look, now isn't the best time to talk about this," he said. "I'm in the middle of something, and people are waiting on me."

Yumichika shook his head slowly. "We haven't seen each other in over a year. I've been searching for you all this time, and you—you won't even take the time to talk to me? What's happened to you, Ikkaku?"

"I didn't tell you to come looking for me, Yumichika," Ikkaku replied dispassionately.

"You also didn't tell me that you weren't coming back!" Yumichika shot back.

Ikkaku steeled his will. "I've got to go. And I suggest you leave this part of town, Yumichika. It's not safe for you." He turned and started walking away.

"Ikkaku. Ikkaku!"

But Ikkaku ignored Yumichika's pleas.

All the rage and hurt and sadness came together inside Yumichika, pushing every other emotion aside and igniting a fire that went from a spark to an inferno in the blink of an eye.

He released the full force of his reiatsu. It was not a matter of him losing control. No, it was a conscious decision to give in against the waves that were pounding away at his restraint. At that moment, he was feeling such anguish that he didn't care about how he used his ability. He had travelled so far, with such hope, never even considering giving up. He'd risked his relationship with his zanpakuto for Ikkaku and only recovered that relationship because Ruri'iro Kujaku was too much in love with him to bear the thought of losing him. He'd left behind a place he loved, the sort of life for which he'd been perfectly suited, all to find Ikkaku.

And now Ikkaku told him he did not want him.

If that were the case, then he would make Ikkaku want him.

Ikkaku had gone only a few steps when Yumichika's reiatu burst upon him, hitting him with the force of a hurricane. He knew immediately what it was, but he could not believe that Yumichika was using it against him in such force. If Yumichika's reiatsu had been powerful before, it was unstoppable now. Whereas before, Ikkaku had been able to hold out some little resistance, this time, there was no possibility. He could not fight against it at all. He turned and lunged forward. With one quick movement, he took Yumichika to the cobblestones in the darkness of the recess. There was no chance or purpose for delicacy. He tore the worn kimono open, wanting nothing more than to ravage the body inside. He clawed and bit and twisted and clutched; and beneath him, Yumichika laid sometimes limp and compliant, other times struggling and defiant.

For Yumichika, it was something that had passed beyond his control. It was wrong. He'd known it was wrong when he'd unleashed his reiatsu, but the pain had robbed him of his reason. And now that it was happening, he didn't care. He didn't care what Ikkaku did to him. He didn't care what he did to Ikkaku. Everything that he'd been hoping and searching for over the past twelve month had been dashed to pieces, and now nothing mattered anymore.

_"Master, stop! Stop!" _It was Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice. _"You'll bring the whole town! Madarame's not the only one who can feel this! Master, please! Get a hold of yourself!"_

But Yumichika was too far gone, so overcome with grief that he could not summon the strength or the desire to rein in what he had released.

Ruri'iro Kujaku was in fear for his master's life and his sanity. Still, he was reluctant to intervene, knowing how Yumichika felt about his unsolicited involvement in matters. But when Madarame rolled Yumichika onto his stomach with the clear intent of entering him, that was the end of the kujaku's hesitation. With a terrifying show of power, he clamped down immediately and forcefully on the wildfire that was his master's reiatsu.

Ikkaku, the sweat pouring off his body, collapsed in a heaving pile of muscle. Beneath him, Yumichika lay trembling and gasping.

For Ikkaku, it was the most humiliating experience of his entire existence. He'd been completely helpless against a power that he abhorred. He'd been bested by someone half his size with not even a fourth of his physical strength. And he'd been forced to act against his will upon the very one who had defeated him. And all of this at the hands of someone for whom he deeply cared, whom he never wanted to hurt, and whom he never thought capable of doing such a thing as what had just transpired.

A strange sound met his ears. It took a moment for him to realize what it was.

He had never heard Yumichika cry before. In twenty-five years of pain and injury, joy and sadness, he'd never heard Yumichika cry. The sound of it now was agonizing.

"Damn you," he groaned, burying his face in the back of Yumichika's neck. "Damn you. Damn you. Why did you have to come here? Why did you do this?"

Yumichika did not respond. He was incapable of speaking. Not only was the grief too debilitating, but he'd been bereft of his reiatsu. Ruri'iro Kujaku, in putting the dampers on his spirit energy, had suppressed it fully so that Yumichika felt as if all the strength had gone out of him.

Ikkaku composed himself and got to his feet. He looked at Yumichika, lying half-naked on the ground, tears still flowing.

And it made him angry. Or rather, he chose to feel angry, for that was easier to deal with than guilt.

"Just go home, Yumichika" he said. "Go back to Venla." He took a few steps back towards the street, before stopping one last time. "And if you ever do that to me again, if you ever use that on me again, I'll . . . I'll never forgive you."

And then he was gone.


	27. Chapter 27

**_Dear Reader, This chapter is the lead-in to Ikkaku meeting Zaraki. You may recognize the scene from the anime (and partially the manga) where Ikkaku flashes back to the three men coming at him, and he pummels the one as the others flee. I also introduce Hoozukimaru properly in this chapter. And yes, I took his appearance from the Zanpakuto Rebellion arc, because I just think those character designs were superb. It's a long, long chapter, so grab a cup of whatever you drink and settle in. Peace and enjoy._**

* * *

><p>Chapter 27 The Ice Cave and the Fire Cave<p>

_In my mind, confusion.  
><em>_I see you everywhere, but we don't speak.  
><em>_I try so hard to touch you,  
><em>_but you're always out of reach.  
><em>_If the water ran dry, would I see it in your eye?  
><em>_Would you walk away?_

_Nervous  
><em>John Lodge

* * *

><p>This was bad. This was very bad. And dangerous.<p>

Ruri'iro Kujaku had to act quickly.

Madarame was gone. Yumichika was still lying despondent on the ground, completely ruined. Ruri'iro continued to block his reiatsu, even though he could feel that his master's spirit energy had fallen way off. The event had decimated Yumichika's power. Even so, the zanpakuto was terrified that the burst of erotic energy Yumichika had sent billowing through the surrounding area would bring all manner of undesirables out to find out what was pricking their senses. And his master was in no condition to deal with them.

"_Master, get up! Get dressed! You have to get out of here! You're not safe here!"_

Yumichika did not move. He gave no response of any kind.

"_Master, pull yourself together! You can't fall apart now! Come on, get up, you have to get out of here!"_

Nothing. It was as if Yumichika were in shock or hurt beyond caring.

The reikon was torn. Clearly, his master was not going to do anything on his own. Normally, Ruri'iro Kujaku would never even consider manifesting without Yumichika's permission, but under the circumstances, he would do whatever was necessary to protect him. And he had to do it fast.

He emerged into the outer world.

"Get _up_!" he demanded, hauling Yumichika to his feet and propping him against the wall while he retrieved his garment from the ground. "This is no time to go to pieces!" Seeing his master had no interest whatsoever in his words and no intent of complying, he resorted to emotional bullying. "This is what Madarame hates about you! You give in without a fight!" This might have been the biggest falsehood to ever roll off the reikon's tongue, for Yumichika was definitely not one to give up on something he really desired. But if a few manipulative words could jolt his master into action, so be it. "If you want to lay here and suffer, then I may as well just push you back to the ground!" Which is what he did. He would not take the easy way out and simply whisk his master away to safety. That would only be affirming the weakness Yumichika was displaying and inviting more of the same. If worse came to worse, he would find a way to force his master to fight. But under no circumstances would he coddle him. Coddling had brought them both to this point. "If you want to be with Madarame again, then you're going to have to do better than this! And you can start by showing some courage instead of sitting here crying like a child!" He could hardly believe his own words, using Madarame as a carrot to lure his master to recover his senses. But at the moment, he had to put his own jealous nature aside.

As a motivating ploy, it worked. The mention of Ikkaku brought Yumichika's head up. He got to his feet and took the crumpled kimono from Ruri'iro Kujaku's hand. He dressed without a word, picked up his satchel and sword, and began walking.

With no destination in mind.

* * *

><p>Ikkaku entered Mabry's.<p>

He should have skipped the appointment and gone off on his own. He was no longer in the mood for company, ink, or small talk. He was in the mood for alcohol – and lots of it. Yet, he refused to cosset his lesser impulses. Trying to drown his current dilemma beneath a cask of brew might be tempting, but he was not going to do it.

Yumichika's appearance had done more than raise his hackles. It had made him suddenly and agonizingly aware of the farce he had been living since leaving Venla – and not merely a farce regarding his feelings for Yumichika. The illusion had been much greater than that. The peace-of-mind he'd been searching for, that he'd imagined he'd found in his return to a violent life and then in the dark coarseness of the shipyards – it was all false. He'd not found anything to call peaceful. True, in Guckoo he'd stumbled upon a lifestyle that suited him well; but now, Yumichika's arrival had turned even that comfortable situation into something untenable. On top of that, his own hypocrisy astounded him. Here he was, about to get the final installment of a symbol reserved for a religious brotherhood, reserved for men of character and strength, kindness and mercy, wisdom and forgiveness. He was none of those things! Even his strength was nothing more than that of a brute animal. His aspirations towards the religious life of the brothers had been nothing more than a fanciful delusion, an arrogant presumption of his own worthiness. His reaction to Yumichika's appearance had demolished any illusions he'd had about his own goodness and noble motives.

But if Ikkaku were feeling low, his friends waiting for him at Mabry's either did not notice or were unconcerned.

"Here he is! We thought you might chicken out on your last night," one of them teased as Ikkaku passed through the doorway. His name was Luckett, and he was Ikkaku's shift foreman.

"I've come this far," Ikkaku grumbled. "Mightaswell finish it."

"Don't sound so enthusiastic," another poked, handing Ikkaku a shot, compliments of the tattoo parlor. He went simply by the name 'Blue Dog'. "Here, you'll feel better."

Ikkaku knocked it back in one swallow.

"Where's your friend?" a third coworker asked. This one was named Bilgate.

Ikkaku feigned indifference. "He went his own way."

"He, uh, had a unique look," Luckett noted. "Not from around here, is he?"

"No."

"How did you ever meet someone like him?"

"We go way back." He paused. "He's . . . a very good man."

"You should have invited him to join us," Blue Dog said.

"He—this isn't his thing," Ikkaku stammered. "Gimme another shot."

"Ah, so he's probably headed over to the boardwalk, to sip some fruity drink and eat cheese plates," Bilgate postulated, bringing laughter from the others.

"I, uh, I don't know where he's gone," Ikkaku said, forcing a chuckle. "He, uh, he does his own thing."

"Maybe he felt that surge and went off to do some exploring," Bilgate said in a suggestive tone, and the other men laughed again.

"I wouldn't have minded going with him," Blue Dog snickered. "I'd love to find out what that was."

Ikkaku didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"

"You didn't feel it?"

Ikkaku felt his throat grow tight. "Feel what?"

"Huh, I don't even know how to describe it," Luckett replied.

Blue Dog added, "It was like . . . hoo! It was the urge! We all felt it."

"The . . . urge . . . " Ikkaku could barely find his voice.

"To get some action," Blue Dog went on. "You didn't feel it? We all felt it – at the same time. Like a tsunami. It crashed over us and then was gone. It was intense."

"And damned good," Bilgate said appreciatively. "You really didn't feel it?"

"No," Ikkaku answered.

"Damn! How could you not? All that ink must have killed your sense for wolf," Blue Dog chuckled, tongue in cheek.

Ikkaku cuffed him playfully on the side of the head. "Shut up, asshole." His manner was care-free, but inside his thoughts were racing. His friends had all felt Yumichika's burst of reiatsu. And if they had felt it, who else had? Yumichika had been able to choke off his spiritual pressure before bringing unwanted attention, but what if he lost control again? What if it happened here in the low side of town where there would be plenty of takers with no compunction at the idea of sexually assaulting someone?

And the state-of-mind in which he'd left Yumichika only increased the risk.

"_No, oh no, you can't feel like this," _he chastised himself. _"You can't go after him. He'll be alright. He had it back under control. And even if it gets loose again, he can take care of himself. He's been wandering through Soul Society on his own for the past year, and he's still in one piece. He doesn't need you to protect him anymore."_

The task of convincing himself of his own argument was no small feat. Seeing Yumichika again had brought all sorts of thoughts storming back into his mind, and those thoughts railed against his shaky commitment to remaining separated from Yumichika.

He tried in vain to convince himself that he was doing this for Yumichika's own good. He could lay some of the blame at his father's feet. That helped. But the truth was that his father was not here in Guckoo and may never find him again. _May_ never find him. There was always the possibility. Even if it took his father a hundred years, he would never stop searching, and then the same thing would happen. Ikkaku did not want to see Yumichika get hurt again.

So much bullshit. So much rank self-deception and flimsy justification for despicable actions! Wasn't leaving Yumichika and lying about it hurtful enough? Wasn't what he had just done to him devastating?

_"I did it because I had to!" _he insisted to himself. "_I wanted him to be safe, and I don't want to go back to the life I had with him._ _I like the way I'm living right now_. _I don't have all the . . . constraints I had when I lived with him."_

But was it better than the life he had had with Yumichika?

He downed another shot. Then another. It was time to stop encouraging competing thoughts.

A few minutes later, Mabry came out from behind the curtain.

"Ready for the final work?"

Ikkaku staggered to his feet. "Hell, yeah."

* * *

><p>The road his master had taken led out of town to the south, passing through a highly industrialized area along the shore, then curving inland, ascending the gradual incline of the downs – wave upon wave of slowly rising hills, the first few of which were dotted with old pit and tunnel mining works, now defunct and left as grey-black scars in their aftermath.<p>

Darkness had fallen as Yumichika approached the first of the mines: a wide, horse-shoe-shaped gouge in the hillside. The bottom of the cutaway was filled with water, muddy and murky and bracken-filled. Outside the horseshoe on the southern side were the workhouses, now empty, their windows broken and vacant, like great staring eyes; their doors rocking sadly on rusted hinges, a few stray weeds sprung up in the inhospitable soil of powdered rock that covered the ground. On the northern cusp were the ghostly remains of the miners' quarters. Made of stone, many of them were standing in fair shape, except for the roofs, which having been made of wood, had rotted away long ago. Still, some were still intact.

This was where Yumichika took shelter.

He had passed through the town without incident. Certainly, people had noticed him, but his demeanor had been such that no one approached him.

As soon as his master had started to move, Ruri'iro Kujaku had returned to the inner world. He'd kept a close eye on things as his master had moved through the town, feeling a sense of relief when, at last, they came to the city limits and began the climb into the hills.

He had kept his silence the entire time. He felt no joy over the wound his master had sustained; and this was surprising to him, for he had always imagined that the elimination of Madarame from his master's life would be a moment for celebration. All the jealousy and bitterness he had felt for Madarame over the years could now be discarded. He had his master all to himself.

And yet, he felt no sense of joy. Not even satisfaction. In fact, all he felt was fear. Fear for his master's safety. Fear for his master's peace-of-mind. Fear that, in Yumichika's morose and despairing state, he might decline to mere existence and cease to truly live.

Ruri'iro Kujaku was torn. If he tried too soon to encourage his master to move on, that would be seen only as a callous attempt to fulfill his own wish of cutting Madarame out of the picture altogether. If he remained silent too long, that would be construed as indifference to his master's plight. He had to walk a fine line, and his first step in that walk would be to hold his peace, to be silent inside his own world, available if his master needed him. At the same time, he would be vigilant. Yumichika, in his current state, had left himself wide open to Ruri'iro's surveillance. The zanpakuto had full access to his senses, his emotions and his thoughts. And given the weakened condition of Yumichika's reiatsu, after having expended much and then having it brutally contained, Ruri'iro Kujaku was all the more watchful for trouble, for his master would not be able to handle a confrontation of any type.

But the dilemma still remained. How was he to guide his master through this mess without causing even more damage? And how was he to ensure that the outcome was beneficial to himself? He was so close to vanquishing Madarame that he could almost taste the victory. And the best part was that he'd not had to do a thing to bring it about. He'd done everything his master had asked. He'd led him to Madarame. He'd been a quiet observer during their reunion. And he'd even averted a disaster by intervening to cut off his master's deliberate abuse of his reiatsu. He could not be held to blame for anything that had transpired.

Now, it only remained to see how his master handled the situation.

Only, Yumichika did not handle it.

At all.

For three days Yumichika remained in the same place on the floor inside the old miner's quarters. He did not move, even to shift position. He remained sitting with his back against the wall, legs sprawled in front of him, an indelicate pose which was unlike him. His hair and his clothes stayed in the same disheveled state in which he'd left the town. He ate nothing, drank nothing, did not sleep, and did not speak.

Out of respect and compassion, Ruri'iro Kujaku had refrained from delving into his master's thoughts, but by the end of the third day, he could no longer proceed only on the hope that his master would come to his senses on his own.

"_Master?"_

When Yumichika did not answer, Ruri'iro materialized into the outside world. He hunkered down in front of him, and what he saw was frightening. The aura that surrounded Yumichika was grown dim, all its brilliance gone. There was no indication that his reiatsu was replenishing itself.

Ruri'iro Kujaku extended his arm and stretched his fingers into the fading light, touching Yumichika's temple. "Kimi, come with me inside. I can heal you better inside."

Still, no response was forthcoming.

"Kimi-san, come with me. Please," the peacock begged. "Let me help you."

Yumichika did not even have the strength to look at him. "It's too late," he whispered.

"Too late? It's not too late!" Ruri'iro protested. "You have to pull yourself together, kimi-san!"

"He doesn't want me anymore." Yumichika's voice was dull, listless. "He doesn't want me."

"He didn't know what he was saying," Ruri'iro pushed back vehemently, incredulous that he now found himself defending Madarame, even if it was only to prevent his master from succumbing to complete and utter despair. "He was so shocked to see you, he didn't know how to act."

Yumichika drew in a trembling breath. "I'd forgotten what it felt like to be unwanted."

Ruri'iro Kujaku hesitated. He had not expected this. The injury to his master had been much deeper than he'd realized. He settled down beside him and drew his head down onto his shoulder.

The reikon's comforting gesture gave Yumichika the strength to bring forth a few more words. "I've never been rejected by someone I love."

This statement sent a shudder through Ruri'iro Kujaku's body. So, here was an admission of love, but not love of the master for the zanpakuto. No, love of the master for another man. For years Ruri'iro Kujaku had been waiting and longing to hear such a profession directed at himself, yet now he feared it had all been in vain. Yumichika was in love – but not with him.

It was ironic. Here was his master, lamenting Ikkaku's rejection of him, bemoaning his unrequited love; and yet, that was very nearly the relationship Ruri'iro had with Yumichika. Ruri'iro Kujaku coveted his master's affection. He had been aching, from the first moment of his awakening, to win his master's love, to hear Yumichika say that he loved him, to be the source of his master's greatest joy. Instead, he shared with his master a relationship that waxed and waned, that was marked by moments of ecstasy and moments of pain, a relationship that soared to the greatest heights and sunk to the lowest depths. A relationship in which he had told his master many times of his love for him, but in which his master had never once uttered the words. A relationship in which the greatest repudiation lay in Yumichika's concealment of the reikon's powers.

Was that not a rejection on par with Madarame's rejection? Or surpassing it, even? After all, Madarame's rejection was of Yumichika's company, his physical presence. Yumichika's rejection was of an entire aspect of Ruri'iro's being. A rejection born of shame and insecurity.

Could his master not see this?

For a moment, the pain was almost unbearable. Ruri'iro Kujaku closed his embrace and leaned his cheek against the top of Yumichika's head. His voice was shaking as he spoke. "You can't stop trying." He was speaking more of his own situation than his master's.

"It's too late," Yumichika said again. "He's made up his mind. And after what I did to him, he—he'd have every reason never to trust me again."

Rur'iro was silent for a long time. He could continue to indulge in his own self-pity and anguish, but he knew he was not the one most in need. And despite the mash of emotions he was feeling, his love for his master trumped them all. At last, he asked, "What are you going to do now?"

"It doesn't matter," came the forlorn response. "I'll just stay here."

"Here? In this place? And do what?"

"Nothing."

Ruri'iro gathered his resolve, leaned forward and forced Yumichika's head up. "So, you intend to just waste away? I won't let you wallow in your misery." Then he did something he rarely employed on his master. He drew on his own seductive ability, leagues beyond anything Yumichika possessed. "Come inside," he said in a deep, dulcet voice.

The reikon's words had a hypnotic effect on Yumichika's overwrought and exhausted senses. He closed his eyes and entered his inner world.

* * *

><p>"Madarame? Drinking alone?"<p>

Ikkaku looked up from the tavern table where he was sitting by himself. Luckett was standing before him, a foamy glass in hand.

"Hey, boss," he acknowledged. "You can join me if you want."

"I think I will." He sat. "You look like you're ready for another."

"Nah, this is my last one. I'm turning it in early tonight," Ikkaku replied.

"Early on a Friday night?"

"Been a long week."

Luckett nodded. "I noticed you seemed out-of-sorts all week. Everything alright?"

Ikkaku was dismissive. "Just a lot of hard work, that's all."

"That's crap," Luckett said with a knowing glint in his eye. "You like hard work. You've been acting weird since your friend showed up last week."

Ikkaku knew denying it would only lead to an inquisition. "Yeah. It was hard seeing him again. We used to be great friends, but . . . we've grown apart."

"What was he doing here?"

"Just passing through," Ikkaku replied.

Luckett raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Just passing through low side? No one just passes through low side."

"He was," Ikkaku replied. "He saw me, we said a few words, then he left."

"And you haven't been the same since," Luckett stated flatly.

Ikkaku looked back with indignation. "I'm fine. Just a little tired. Believe me, Yumichika has nothing to do with this."

"Yumichika? That's his name?"

Ikkaku hadn't meant to divulge even that scant bit of information, but now that he had, he nodded his confirmation and sought to end the topic. "But he's gone on his way now."

"Is that why you're so distracted?"

"I'm not distracted!"

"Yes, you are. This past week has been some of the sloppiest work you've ever done," Luckett reported. "If you're upset because you're not friends with him anymore, that's fine, but you can't let it affect your work. Your lack of attention almost caused a couple accidents. Your crewmates didn't want me to come down on you, so I'm doing it this way. But if you don't get your act together, you can't be on the line anymore."

"I'll do better," Ikkaku said listlessly.

Luckett accepted this and changed the subject. "The Vasa is coming along well. We might even finish ahead of schedule."

"Yeah."

Luckett continued talking, and three more shipyard workers joined the table. The conversation went on, but Ikkaku took no part in it. The truth was that Luckett had been right: Ikkaku had been distracted ever since Yumichika's appearance. More than distracted. Yumichika was all he could think about.

And he was disgusted with himself for it.

He'd thought himself past the attachment, beyond the reach of fond memories, but Yumichika's appearance had put the lie to any illusions he'd entertained of his own detachment. He'd managed to maintain his resistance when Yumichika had proposed joining him, but he could not erase from his mind the look on Yumichika's face when he'd refused. But even more, he could not forget what Yumichika had done to him. He'd believed himself to be, if not immune, at least resistant to Yumichika's seductive powers. But he had succumbed yet again – and immediately. Yumichika's power had increased by unimaginable lengths, and Ikkaku's ability to withstand that power had not. The disgrace he'd suffered at Yumichika's hands was unabated. And the worst part of it was that he did not know if Yumichika had lost control of his reiatsu in his upset, or if he had purposefully released his reiatsu in a fit of anger. Either way, it was clear to Ikkaku that Yumichika roaming loose in Soul Society with such a power and either tenuous control or a short fuse posed a dangerous situation.

"_But he's not my responsibility anymore."_

How cold that sounded. How cold and heartless. And a far cry from the promise he had made twenty-five years ago.

He got to his feet.

"Heading out?" Luckett asked.

"Yeah. Like I said, early night," Ikkaku replied. He tossed a copper on the table. "This should cover mine."

Outside, the night was still warm. He began walking, but he didn't head for the shipyard barracks. Instead, he headed for upside and the boardwalk. He knew why he had chosen that direction, but he could not admit it to himself.

He hadn't felt even an inkling of Yumichika's reiatsu in the past week, but that hardly surprised him. He'd never been as good at detecting reiatsu as Yumichika, and if Yumichika were suppressing his spirit energy, then Ikkaku had little chance of sensing it. Still, he could not believe that Yumichika would have abandoned his undertaking so easily. If he had, in fact, been searching for Ikkaku for the past twelve months – and there was no reason to believe that was untrue – then the idea that he would give up and walk away without a fight was unimaginable. Not Yumichika. Yumichika was nothing if not tenacious.

Ikkaku had left him in a dreadful state a week ago, but if something bad had befallen him, he would have heard about it. The only thing that ran faster than booze in lowside was scuttlebutt. Therefore, it stood to reason that Yumichika had made it through that terrible night and was still somewhere nearby. Upside seemed the likely place. Here, Yumichika would fit in much easier. Here, he would be able to use his ability to find room and board while figuring out his next step. And assuredly, that next step would be towards the same goal of inserting himself back into Ikkaku's life, something against which Ikkaku was dead set. And yet, he could not stop worrying about Yumichika. It was a worry that seemed to be without reason. Yumichika didn't need Ikkaku or anyone else to protect him.

Anyone else.

_Anyone else._

That was it. That was the problem. Yumichika could not have developed such immense seductive power on his own. What had been a natural magnetism radiating from his soul back in Mito, occasionally intentionally increased for foolish or playful reasons; what had grown into a formidable presence in Venla, kept under tight control with a few notable exceptions; had now been adapted into a weapon of incredible power and dubious applicability. After all, what was the sense in forcing adversaries into an erotically induced attack that only brought them on with greater force? It was inviting a certain defeat . . .

. . . unless Yumichika possessed another strength, a hidden ability to dispatch those adversaries once they'd succumbed.

_The hollow._

Yes, that had to be it. And suddenly, Ikkaku felt the weight of a terrible guilt crash down upon his shoulders. In his desire to protect Yumichika from his father, and his subsequent selfish return to a life of dissipation, he'd inadvertently left an opening into which the hollow had inserted itself, once again becoming Yumichika's mentor and guide.

And this was the result. Unrivaled sexual power and either an unwillingness or inability to control that power.

"I've got to get rid of that hollow," Ikkaku said under his breath as he made his way onto the boardwalk with its bright lights, tempting aromas, and the competing sounds of the pier carnival, the dance halls, and the arcades.

Beautiful people walked past him. Some gave him disapproving glances. Others snickered. But he did not care. A place like this would be a royal buffet for a hollow: so many attractive souls, and they would be completely helpless against Yumichika's ability.

Ikkaku expanded his sensitivity as much as his own limited ability would allow and began walking towards the pier at the far end of the boardwalk.

* * *

><p>Yumichika sat up slowly. Lying beside him, Ruri'iro Kujaku stirred but did not wake up.<p>

Yumichika looked at the zanpakuto with a loving sadness. Ruri'iro Kujaku had stayed beside him every second of the past week – the first three days in the outside world, the last four here in the comfort of the maroon room. Few words had passed between them. The kujaku's presence was solace enough, and Yumichika would not have known what to say anyway. He'd slowly recovered most of the spirit energy he'd expended in his attack against Ikkaku, but he knew the replenishment had come from Ruri'iro Kujaku. He had fallen into such a condition that he would never have been able to regain his spirit energy on his own.

It frightened him when he recalled how angry he had become, how he had gathered all his energy and let it fly with the sole intent of injuring. And he felt the sting of humiliation when he recalled the despondency that had overtaken him in the aftermath.

His gaze shifted out into the darkness beyond the floating walls, to the diffused light reflecting off the hanging mirrors and cages; and he could not help but feel that he should be locked inside one of those cages. He'd proven, beyond a doubt, that he had no control over his emotions, and that he was a slave to those emotions.

"I acted like an idiot," he said softly. "I came all this way and acted like an idiot."

He got to his feet, looked back over his shoulder once again at the still-sleeping reikon, then launched into the darkness. In all the years of exploring his inner world, he had never come to any concrete boundaries, other than the sea over which he could not pass. In every other direction, it seemed that the possibilities were endless, stretching away beyond comprehension. Might he not be able to find some dimension where he could turn back the time and start over again?

He came to the cave of the peacocks, but he did not linger. Instead, he flew across the water to where another passageway led off in a direction he had yet to take.

He took it now.

The air grew consistently colder and after a considerable journey through the pale darkness, Yumichika came to the source of the cold. He emerged into another cavern, this one not quite as big as the one he had just left, but still immense enough to make him feel small and awestruck. The cave walls were covered in sheets of ice, bluish in hue, seeming to glow from within. It was a hard, cold place – and stunningly beautiful.

As Yumichika looked about himself, taking in the stark splendor of his surroundings, he began to feel more at ease. An understanding came into his thoughts. The unrelenting cold spoke to him in ways he had not imagined possible. He was a warm, compassionate soul by all measures; the mere idea of being cold and aloof formed no part of how he had lived his life up to this point. But clearly, he possessed the ability. Otherwise, such a place as this would not exist in his inner world.

He wandered through the cavern's twists and turns, coming to the far end, where yet another pathway led out. He followed this, staying on foot this time, for the passage was narrow and much darker. And as it turned out, much longer than the passage leading to the ice cave. The cold faded to a comfortable temperature, but then the heat began to increase.

Yumichika considered turning back as the air became thick and sweltering. Up ahead, he could see a reddish-orange glow. He had the impression of approaching hell, and for some inexplicable reason, that prospect alone gave him the courage and resolve to continue on. Could it be that he possessed some demonic aspect here in his own soul?

When he entered the cavern, he was even more overcome with wonder – and a bit of fear. The place was flowing with molten rock, rivers and cascades of it. Tongues of flame hissed and flared and disappeared at random. The rocky pathways that led through the cave were broken and shifting, making passage on foot a dangerous proposition. Yumichika dared not try to go any further.

It was a forbidding scene, yet oddly compelling. After the barren loveliness of the ice cave, the fire cave was alluring and repulsive at the same time. Here a sense of wildness reined. The fires that dotted the scene before him seemed almost to taunt him with their sudden appearance then disappearance. A game of hide and seek. Catch as catch can. He wondered what would happen if he touched one of them . . .

Not more than an arm's length away, a small fountain of flame appeared, as if in response to his silent query. He reached out his hand.

Yumichika startled as Ruri'iro Kujaku appeared suddenly in front of him, taking firm hold of his wrist and drawing his arm back down.

"You'll get burned," the zanpakuto warned. "That's what will happen if you touch it."

"You scared me," Yumichika said with a relieved sigh.

Ruri'iro ignored the remark. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because I knew you were exhausted from replenishing my spirit energy," Yumichika replied. "And I can tell, looking at you now, you're still not one hundred percent."

Ruri'iro Kujaku puffed out his chest. "Huh! I don't need to be one hundred percent. I could only be ten percent, and it would be sufficient to take care of you." He paused and looked around him. "This is an interesting place."

"Have you been here before?" Yumichika asked.

"No," the reikon replied.

"I wonder—what do you suppose this place represents? What part of me? It seems very hellish," Yumichika said thoughtfully.

Once again, Ruri'iro Kujaku was astounded by his master's naiveté. "These are your passions. The fires that burn in your heart. Good and bad. It's all here." He paused. "This is a dangerous place."

"Why is it dangerous?"

"Because these are unbridled passions. Even a passion for doing something good can turn into wickedness if not moderated," Ruri'iro explained. "You should understand that."

Yumichika colored, unnoticeable in the red glow of the fires around him.

"And the other cave? The ice cave?" he asked.

"The part of you that does the moderating," Ruri'iro replied. "The cold voice of reason and restraint."

Yumichika scoffed in a self-deprecating manner. "It must be the smallest place in here."

"Perhaps not the smallest, but certainly the least used," Ruri'iro Kujaku tossed back in a lightly instructive voice.

Yumichika frowned. "I guess I should make use of it now."

"Yes," the reikon agreed. "You need to decide what to do from here."

A long silence ensued, then Yumichika asked in a tentative voice, "Do you think Ikkaku meant all those things he said?"

Ruri'iro hesitated. It was a difficult question to answer, for he could not delve into Madarame's thoughts the way he could delve into his master's thoughts. Still, he was quite adept at reading a man's character and motives, when permitted to do so.

"He was surprised to see you," he began. "And not particularly pleased, although I did detect a certain . . . excitement in his reiatsu. I do believe his main reason for leaving Venla was to protect you from his father. But it seems clear to me now that he was also trying to protect himself."

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't really hear a thing he said to you about his father, did you? Or the things his father told you?" Ruri'iro began. "He may have wanted to protect you from Totui, but he also was afraid of losing your friendship in a way that he would never get back. It's ironic, because he's worked against his own plan. He wanted to save himself the pain of losing you, yet he brought on the separation himself. And now that he has the chance to be with you again, now that he can see you didn't fall prey to his father's tricks, he's still pushing you away." He was careful to keep his voice neutral and observational. "Whatever it is that he's afraid of, I can't help but wonder if . . . if maybe there is a part of him that really doesn't want you around, that really wants to be alone." He waited for the indignant response from his master, but it did not come.

Instead, Yumichika answered, "There is. There always has been, since the day we met. I've fought against it all these years. So has he. But it was always there. Eventually, he wanted to be with me more than he wanted to be alone. That was due to you. He couldn't resist the part of me that was you, then . . . after a while, he . . . it was me that he grew attached to, not just my allure."

"Yes, I can see that," Ruri'iro agreed. "In fact, I think he's come to despise the part of you that is me. He's always hated the seductive part of you. But that's not important." He drew in a deep breath. "I just worry about whether or not he'll be able to overcome that desire to be alone this time around. He's been gone for over a year without any attempt to contact you or find out how you were . . . I'm just afraid he's happy on his own. Add to that the fact that he doesn't want you to get hurt because of him, and . . . kimi, he might have been happy to see you deep down, but he's not interested in going back to the way things were."

"I don't expect things to go back to that," Yumichika replied. "I just want to be with him again."

"And I don't want to see you get hurt again," Ruri'iro said. "Kimi, what just happened almost destroyed you. From the inside. It's torture for me to see you that way." He sounded sad and resigned. "I won't tell you to give up on Madarame. This episode showed me just how much you've come to love him. I won't try to convince you that you're wasting your affections. But you cannot expect me to be happy if you continue to pursue him."

Yumichika nodded. "I know. I understand."

He started walking back towards the ice cave. After only a few steps, he stopped and turned back, holding out his hand to Ruri'iro Kujaku.

It was a small gesture.

And it meant everything to the zanpakuto.

* * *

><p>Another week passed in the miners' camp.<p>

"If I sell the two kimonos, that will give me enough money to buy more material," Yumichika stated as he went through the meager contents of his satchel.

"Yes," Ruri'iro Kujaku agreed without enthusiasm. "And leave you with only one piece of clothing for yourself."

Yumichika held up the kimono. It was white with red and green flowers on it, accented with a wide violet obi. "True, but it's the nicest one."

Ruri'iro Kujaku gave a wan nod. He was still in the process of reconciling himself to the fact that his master had decided to stay in this place and win Madarame back over. The victory that had almost been in his grasp had now given way to an acknowledgment that his master would never be able to abandon Madarame; and now he watched as Yumichika settled in for a fight.

"I'm sure I can find a shop in the nice part of town where they'll be willing to sell these for me," Yumichika went on. "We can go tomorrow and have a look."

"And where do you intend to live, kimi-san?" Ruri'iro asked. "This is hardly a suitable dwelling."

Yumichika shrugged. "It will do for now."

"It will do? It's horrible. There's no way to make this place beautiful," the reikon protested. "I am sure you could find much nicer accommodations in the good part of town."

"Didn't you look around when we passed through?" Yumichika replied. "I can't afford to even rent a room there."

"You don't need money," Ruri'iro pointed out. "You could use the tiniest smidgen of your power, and they'll all be clamoring over each other to offer you space."

Yumichika blanched. "No, I—I don't want to use my power. Not after what happened with Ikkaku. I don't—I'm afraid I won't be able to control it or that I'll . . . I'll lose my temper again."

"I'll stop you if it gets out of control," Ruri'iro offered. "I really don't want to stay here. It's so gray and ugly and . . . it's not safe. Who knows what sorts of miscreants probably come up here to do . . . whatever they do."

"I think we can take care of any _miscreants," _Yumichika answered, then he eyed the reikon with a simmering suspicion. "Speaking of control . . . why didn't you stop me from using my reiatsu on Ikkaku?"

"I did stop you," Ruri'iro reminded him.

"But only after it had run amok and caused all that trouble," Yumichika replied. He hesitated. "You wanted that to happen, didn't you? You wanted to drive a wedge between me and Ikkaku."

Ruri'iro Kujaku sighed. "Kimi, the wedge was already there. It's been there since Madarame left Venla. As for your little episode, the reason I didn't intervene right away was because, first of all, it happened so quickly. You lost control in the blink of an eye. I waited to see if you would be able to rein yourself in, but you couldn't. You weren't even trying. You were so carried away by your grief that you didn't know what you were doing. That's when I decided to step in. Blame me if you want to, but you know it wasn't my doing."

Yumichika nodded. "I know. But you can't deny that you'd be happier if I just gave up on Ikkaku."

"I'd be happier if he didn't mean as much to you," Ruri'iro corrected. "But for you to give up when you still care about him would only invite melancholy and misery. I can't bear to see you that way. How can I show you that the only thing that matters to me is your happiness."

"No matter what I do, you're always there," Yumichika said quietly. "No matter how stupid I act, you always forgive me. No matter how badly I treat you, you still love me."

The colors surrounding Ruri'iro Kujaku shifted, and Yumichika could not tell if the reikon was embarrassed, humbled, or pleased.

But when Ruri'iro replied, his emotions were clear. "You treat me in much the same way Madarame treats you. But the difference is that I depend on you for my very existence. And I want that existence to be beautiful. The only way to ensure that is for me to continue to guide you."

Yumichika cracked a small grin. It was his first genuine smile in over a week, and it felt good. Not a day ago, he'd despaired of ever smiling again. But now, he had a new hope. If Ruri'iro Kujaku were willing to help him – or at least not hinder him – in his situation with Ikkaku, then he might yet prevail. He wrapped his arms around the reikon's waist, but the hug was short-lived, for Ruri'iro Kujaku was not only emotional, but pragmatic.

"If you want to find a place to sell these, we'd best head down now," he announced. "We want to make it there and back before nightfall. I don't want you to pass through the downside of town in the dark. That's a wild place."

Yumichika looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Do you honestly think that, with your power, I wouldn't be able to defeat anyone who dared attack me?"

"Of course not, but you'd have to release me first," Ruri'iro pointed out. "You've only done that once – where no one could see. Do you think you'd release me down there with all those people around? And since you can't control me very well, who knows how many people you'd end up killing."

"You're right," Yumichika conceded. "Okay, let's go. It's still early. We'll have plenty of time."

Ruri'iro Kujaku returned to the inner world, excited at the prospect of walking through the throngs and masses, the beautiful and the ugly, the leisurely and the laborers. The more he saw of the outside world, the more he wanted to see. The more it took his thoughts away from the fact that he was losing out once again to Madarame.

* * *

><p>Yumichika found a ready vendor for his items. An upscale finery shop in a prime location on the boardwalk. He, of course, had to promise the owner he would provide at least a dozen new garments a week – an easy feat for him. The shop owner even opened a line of credit for Yumichika at the city's best fabric warehouse.<p>

As Yumichika walked back towards the miners' camp, two bags filled with cloth and thread and implement slung one over each shoulder, he heard Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice in his mind.

_"That was almost too easy,"_ the zanpakuto stated. _"And you didn't use any of your reiatsu."_

_"The man knew quality work when he saw it,"_ Yumichika replied.

_"He felt very confident that he could sell your items," _Ruri'iro said. _"It shouldn't be long before you have enough money to move into the nice part of town."_

_"If I decide to," _Yumichika replied. _"I'm not in much mood for company these days. Except yours."_

_"I understand, but maybe if you had company, you wouldn't think so much about Madarame,"_ Ruri'iro suggested.

Yumichika gave an inward shrug. _"He's the whole reason I'm staying here, Ruri'iro Kujaku."_

Yumichika crossed from one block to the next, entering lowside. He moved unmolested through the filthy streets, passing directly outside the shipyards gates.

It was not lost on Ruri'iro Kujaku that here was the real reason Yumichika was in no hurry to move to the upside of town. If he stayed living in the abandoned miners' quarters, he would have to pass this way as often as he went to conduct business. And the more frequently he passed through, the better his chances of seeing Madarame.

The kujaku kept this observation to himself. He did not want to risk upsetting his master after the recent trials.

But as the weeks went by, finally growing into a month and the beginning of a stiflingly hot September, Ruri'iro Kujaku began to grow worried and agitated. Worried because the area around the camp was treacherous: not with human dangers, but with sinkholes, sediment bogs that were no better than quicksand, cave-ins that sent debris and dust billowing out from the mouths of the tunnels, and muddy landslides every time it rained. It was only Yumichika's fleet-footed agility that had enabled him to avoid disaster on several occasions already.

And he was agitated because Yumichika seemed no closer to making a move one way or the other with respect to Madarame. He'd not approached Ikkaku. He'd not allowed even the tiniest hint of his reiatsu to escape. It was questionable whether Madarame even knew he was still in the vicinity.

And what was his master hoping to achieve? If he were hoping for a change of Madarame's heart, he was doing nothing to encourage it. And yet, he continued to pass by the shipyards every day. For what? There were other routes he could have taken – some might have even been quicker. If, by chance, he encountered Madarame, what did he intend to say to him? What was he planning to do? The answers to these questions were hidden from Ruri'iro Kujaku, if, in fact, there were answers at all. It seemed more likely that Yumichika was simply rolling along with each day, with no plan in mind.

But if the kujaku were lamenting a pointless endeavor, all that was about to change.

* * *

><p>For crying out loud, wasn't that damn bell ever going to ring?<p>

It had to be close to quitting time. If it weren't, then Ikkaku might have to consider quitting the job altogether.

The heat on top of the soldering crane was unbearable. How the hell had he gotten this assignment? Directing the placement of liquid ore was not at the top of his list of plumb jobs. Ah, but he had only himself to blame. After Luckett's warning about his sloppy work, he'd doubled down to a point where his precision and watchful eye had made him the prime candidate for one of the most taxing jobs on the site. At least, the work would garner him a bit more in his pay packet. If he survived to enjoy it.

He straightened up from over the pour site, giving his eyes a rest from the intense heat rushing up from the drop kettle, and rubbing the sweat from his brow. He took a moment to enjoy the view. He could see up and down the coast for miles from this height. He even felt a faint breeze against his cheeks and skimming over the top of his glistening scalp. Looking north, he saw the approach of white, billowing clouds – harbingers of something much more ominous in their wake. But for now, all was clear and dry and as hot as the smelt houses.

He looked below into the shipyards. Still, no signal was coming for him to descend. He deduced that this meant there was still at least an hour before quitting time, considering that it would take him at least an hour to secure the drop kettle and come down from his perch. The white flag was still showing below, indicating that the ground team was not ready for the next pour yet. With any luck, they still wouldn't be ready an hour from now. The thought of leaning back over the metallic site, exposing his face once again to that blistering heat . . .

He turned his face into the breeze and wiped the back of his neck with his work shirt. He then shifted to feel the breeze on his back as he looked out over the southern coast. Not far inland, a hideous gouge could be seen in the hillside. The mines. He'd heard talk of them, but he hadn't been to see them. He'd been warned to stay clear. They were dangerous. Not worth a visit. Not even worthy of curiosity. And from what Ikkaku could see, the admonishments had been accurate.

And then his eye caught sight of something. A splash of color, small yet distinct, moving in the direction of the mines on the single road that led only to that one place.

He knew immediately that he was looking at Yumichika.

"He's still here," he whispered to the lofty air around him. He'd been right all along. Yumichika had not left. Even though he'd not detected Yumichika's reiatsu, he'd not been dissuaded from his belief that Yumichika was still close by. Now, he had his proof.

Ikkaku continued to watch him walk up the hill to the miners' camp. "Don't tell me that's where you're staying," he said, shaking his head. "Damn it, why can't you just go back?"

_"Why can't you just go get him?"_

Cursed conscience!

"Because I don't want to go get him! If I wanted him here, I wouldn't have told him to go away!" he blurted out, knowing no one could hear him at this height.

_"Eh, you're full of it, partner. You knew he wouldn't go away, but you still decided to stay here. If you were really wanting to get rid of him, you'd have left."_

"What difference would it make? He managed to find me here! He can follow my reiatsu anywhere, apparently! No matter where I go, he won't give up!"

_"So? Why do you care? So what if he wants to be with you? You should be happy about that. Why are you so angry over him being here?"_

"There are so many reasons, too many for me to even think of!"

_"You're a coward."_

"No! I just don't want to –"

_"I've never heard so much whining. Just take the risk. If you get burned, so what? You know he's the only person you care about in this world. Why don't you live up to those fancy markings you put on your body and do the right thing?"_

"It's not that easy."

_"If it were, it'd be boring. Besides . . . I like him."_

It seemed a strange thing for his conscience to say, but there was an abiding truth in it.

"Madarame!"

Ikkaku could barely hear the voice calling his name. He shook himself out of his reverie and looked below. The green flag was waving. They were ready for another pour.

_"You want to be a better man? Then do more than just sporting the outward signs. Start acting like a better man."_

Ikkaku shook himself to attention.

He took his place over the site and prepared for the day's last pour.

* * *

><p>Yumichika dropped his bag on the dirt floor inside the miner's quarters and collapsed onto the old, fraying chair that sat oozing its stuffing in the corner near the fallen down staircase.<p>

"It's _disgusting_ outside!" he wheezed. "Absolutely disgusting!"

Ruri'iro Kujaku materialized in front of him.

"Look at me!" Yumichika went on. "I'm covered in dust and dirt! I stink! I'm sweating like a pig!"

His master's outrage sent a humorous ripple through the reikon's colors. "Then why don't you go clean yourself up? You can go to the pool. It's still early enough."

Ruri'iro was referring to a water-filled quarry dig on the other side of the down. It was a good thirty-minute walk, but with the quick step, his master could be there in less than five minutes.

Unlike the murky quagmire that lay at the mine tunnels' entrances, the quarry pool was fairly clear, owing to its basin of solid granite. Over the years, it had become the repository for several small rain gutters that had carved their way downhill along the path of least resistance. On its down-sloping side, a large crack drained enough water off to keep it from overflowing.

It offered a pleasant respite in the heat of the day and late afternoon. But caution was necessary. It was also a watering hole for a large band of gypsies who had made their camp on the down to the south, on the opposite side of the quarry from the miners' camp. Yumichika had discovered their presence early on. From the look of their camp, they had been there for quite a while, and Yumichika had no desire for a run-in. He knew enough about gypsies to steer clear.

They had come into the miners' camp once or twice, but Yumichika had perfected, with Ruri'iro Kujaku's help, the appearance of an uninhabited run-down shanty. Coupled with his ability to disappear at a moment's notice, he had managed never to come face-to-face with them.

Yumichika had noted their regular hours for visiting the quarry, and he scheduled his hours around them. This suited Ruri'iro Kujaku just fine, for he found them to be abhorrent.

"Dirty, foul, and definitely not beautiful," was how he referred to them, sticking his nose in the air in affectation.

But at that moment, such a descriptor might have been more appropriately applied to his master.

Yumichika got to his feet with an exaggerated air of exhaustion and stiffness. "That sounds like a good idea."

Less than ten minutes later, Yumichika stood on the sun-warmed rocky lip just above the water's edge. He removed his clothes and tossed them to the ground. They were too dirty for him to wear back to the miners' camp, so he had brought another set with him: the kimono he had kept as his favorite. He looked out over the water and was about to dive in when the colors changed and he felt the familiar touch of Ruri'iro Kujaku's hands on waist.

"Are you going to start something?" Yumichika asked with a grin.

"Call me crazy, but I like it when you're dirty and sweaty," Ruri'iro whispered into his ear.

Yumichika laughed. "But it's not beautiful."

"Yes it is. Oh, yes it is," Ruri'iro disagreed. "On you, it's . . . breathtaking."

"But you can't even see it," Yumichika challenged. "You see me like I see you – nothing but light and colors and—"

"I can sense it." He ran his hands up Yumichika's sides. "I can feel it."

Yumichika turned to face him and held up a warning finger. "You always get me going, but then you stop and I end up . . . I end up . . . "

"Aching? Yearning? Longing?" Ruri'iro teased. He was delighted to see his master in good spirits, and he said his own silent words of gratefulness for his master's resiliency. Even more than his beauty, his ability to keep coming back might be his greatest asset.

"Yes," Yumichika replied, "To all of them."

"And what's wrong with that?"

Yumichika shook his head. "You like to provoke me. You make me all feverish—"

"Of course, I do. But I can help you cool off, too," Ruri'iro said.

Yumichika knew immediately what was coming, but he still wasn't fast enough. In the next moment, he found himself flying backwards into the water. He came to the surface spluttering and laughing.

"You pest!" he charged. "This time you need to come in here! I swear, I'll come out and drag you in myself!"

"Ha! There's no chance of that! How could you prevail over me? Impossible!" the kujaku laughed. "Why don't you do what you came here to do, and then we can talk about me coming in there."

Yumichika splashed him with his hand and headed off across the pool.

The water felt wonderful, and Yumichika took his time savoring the cool respite. Ruri'iro Kujaku soared up to sit on a rocky precipice and enjoy the view.

At that moment, the reikon would have given anything to be able to see his master clearly. He had teased his master about longing and aching, but he knew that it was he himself who was feeling the very yearning which he had ascribed to Yumichika. How he longed to cast off his raiment, trade the feathers for smooth skin, and break free with the same nakedness as his master. Even though the halo obscured view of his master's nude body, the outline was tantalizing. The one time he had seen his master clearly, Yumichika had been naked, and the splendor of his body had almost robbed Ruri'iro of his reason and self-restraint.

He wanted his master to experience the same thrill, the same moment of excitement he had felt. And his pride was such that he wanted to see Yumichika marvel at the sight of his own body. He wanted to feel his master's hands on him in exploration. He wanted to render his master speechless with his beauty.

It was a riveting fantasy, and he indulged it fully as he watched Yumichika glide through the water below. It was a blissful moment, and he wished it to last forever. But the peace was interrupted by the sudden detection of several faint reiatsus. He leapt up to the top of the quarry wall, took a quick look, and then swooped back down to where Yumichika had deposited his clothes.

"Master, some men are coming. They're very close. Come out. Quickly." He did not acknowledge the fact that his own erotic infatuation with his master had prevented him from noticing their approach any sooner. Nor did he dwell on just how much time had gone by and the fact that the sun was now setting.

Yumichika appeared little disturbed the news.

The reason for his master's nonchalance hit Ruri'iro Kujaku with the force of a gale-strength wind. The reikon could already feel Yumichika's reiatsu intensifying and shifting its direction. He could sense that tiny kernel of his master's sadism, so recently discovered, ripening and spreading through his soul to areas previously inhabited only by beauty. It amazed the zanpakuto that such a small seed could blossom into something so overwhelming.

"Return, Ruri'iro Kujaku."

The order was the final confirmation of his master's intent.

Ruri'iro Kujaku felt a pulse of excitement as he returned to his inner world. He immediately looked out through his master's eyes.

Yumichika swam closer to the side of the pool where his clothes were, but he did not get out of the water. Fully aware that he was now being watched by lustful eyes, he continued swimming for several more minutes, arching his back as he floated, fondling himself playfully and in full view, and running his hands over his body as if offering an invitation.

Ruri'iro Kujaku was flabbergasted.

And uncertain what to do.

His master's eroticism was tantamount to torture. Who could withstand it? The sight of the youthful body, the exposition of carefully chosen movements charged with sensuality, the lax mouth, the manufactured sounds of pleasure. What human soul could ever resist such temptation? Even Ruri'iro Kujaku found it hard to stand firm, and he did not even have clarity of vision – only the internal awareness of his master's every move.

Yet, there was something very wrong in what he was witnessing. He knew it all too well. His master's actions at the moment reminded him of the days in Mito. This was seduction. But not mere seduction. This was seduction for its own sake. There was nothing to be gained here. No barter. No affection. No physical return of pleasure. Yumichika could have left the pool and avoided an encounter altogether, but he'd chosen to use his power for the sole purpose of leading to a confrontation.

It confounded the reikon. Why wasn't he stopping his master? Why, instead, was he waiting with bated breath to see what Yumichika would do? Did the prospect of being used against a real adversary again present such an opportunity that he was willing to abandon all sense of right and wrong? Wasn't that what he was trying to teach his master? The proper use of his power? The ability to withstand the whims and fancies of a fickle spirit? What had happened to all that blather about a good and generous soul? A kind soul? An innocent soul?

There was no innocence here. Not in this moment, at least.

And the feeling Ruri'iro Kujaku had experienced in the hands of his master upon that first use in the post station . . . he wanted that again.

Desperately.

At length, Yumichika pulled himself out of the water and made a show of wringing out his hair, drying his body, and then reaching for his clothes.

It was at that point that the men, six of them, emerged from their hiding place. They walked along the lip of the quarry.

Yumichika slipped the kimono on. His entire manner was unhurried.

The men came to the flat plateau where Yumichika continued to dress without even so much as a glance at their arrival.

"Leavin' a'ready?" one of them said, stepping to the forefront.

Yumichika looked over his shoulder.

Gypsies.

"Yes," he replied with a falsely genial grin . "It's all yours. You all look like you could use a good wash."

"We come a' get clean, but look like we find somethin' more int'esting than bath," the same man said.

Yumichika inclined his head. "Have you been watching me the whole time?" His voice was teasing.

"Oh, long 'nough." A pause. "You give us lot ta watch."

"So, what do you want now?" Yumichika asked, brushing his wet hair away from his face with carefully calculated allure.

"I thin' you can guess wha' we want."

"Yes, I think I can," Yumichika smiled with false humility. "But unfortunately, I'm not in the mood."

"Tha's no problem fo' us." They moved closer.

"If you want it that badly, you can try," Yumichika shrugged. "But I don't think you'll like the results."

As they approached him, his smile grew broader. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

He reached for Ruri'iro Kujaku.

* * *

><p>Ikkaku slogged up the dirt road towards the miners' camp.<p>

He felt a certain degree of disgust with himself.

_You want to be a better man? Then start acting like a better man._

He wasn't even sure how to be a better man. Going to find Yumichika did not make him a better man, especially since he had no idea what he was going to say or do once he found him. He had simply felt compelled to try and find some suitable conclusion to the situation; but what was suitable under the circumstances? He was adamant about not going back into the way things had been, and if that's what Yumichika were hoping for, then he had to find a way to discourage him without the whole thing disintegrating into chaos as it had at their last meeting. He had to find a way to get Yumichika to go back on his own. And he had to do it soon, for he had known from the moment Yumichika had appeared in the alleyway, that he was in danger of falling back under Yumichika's spell. Now was the time for him to make a stand, before his determination dissipated completely, leaving him resentful and forever blaming Yumichika for his own short-comings.

He came to the camp, where he stopped and looked around for a moment in surprise and disbelief. It was such a drab, colorless place that he could not even imagine Yumichika living here. He looked inside a couple of the dwellings, coming away even more incredulous.

And then he felt it.

The explosion of reiatsu shook him on his feet.

He recognized it immediately. Only it couldn't be.

He broke into a run in the direction from which the reiatsu was emanating.

His path took him up over the top of the down and down a fairly worn trail between two uneven upward-rising slopes. Over the top of the slope on his left, he could see a strange bluish light coloring the late afternoon sky beyond. He continued running along the gully path until he came to a point where he could surmount the rise. He sprang like a gazelle, hurdling over the top and landing on a thin strip of mottled turf at the edge of a precipitous drop into a water-filled quarry. As he landed, the light faded and the overwhelming reiatsu receded to something more familiar to him.

Even so, the shock was not lessened. His eyes fell first on four bodies lying on the ground below, then on the slight figure backdropped by twilight. He could not believe his senses.

"Yumichika . . . " Even though he had spoken softly, his voice echoed off the sheer walls of rock.

Yumichika turned. "Ikkaku!"

Ikkaku came down, jump by jump, from the overlook. His gaze wandered over the littered ground. "You did all this?"

Yumichika was cool. "Do you see anyone else?"

Ikkaku went from body to body. "They're all dead." He turned his scrutinous eyes to Yumichika. "You've never killed anyone in your life."

Yumichika returned his gaze steadily. "They were going to kill me. I did what I had to to stop them."

"They don't have a mark on them," Ikkaku went on. "And look at you. You didn't even break a sweat. You don't even look like you were doing battle."

Yumichika shrugged. "Do you want me to say someone else did it?"

"No, I just want you to tell me how _you_ did it," Ikkaku replied. "And no lies."

Several seconds passed before Yumichika answered. "I did it with my reiatsu."

"Your reiatsu?"

"My spirit energy crushed them," Yumichika elaborated.

"That's—that's—"

"You've seen how dangerous my spirit energy can be," Yumichika went on. "In all those months that you were gone, maybe I've learned how to use it at will." He paused. "A lot changed after you left me, Ikkaku."

"This isn't possible," Ikkaku protested. "You . . . how could you have gotten this strong?"

"A lot of training," Yumichika replied.

"And you're going to try and tell me again that you trained yourself, right?" Ikkaku challenged.

"What difference does it make? You can see that I've improved, that I've learned to control my reiatsu, like you told me to. This should make you happy," Yumichika said nonchalantly. He retrieved his soiled clothes from the ground.

Ikkaku was defiant. "This doesn't make any sense," he persisted. "You couldn't have become this powerful in so short a time."

"It's been over a year," Yumichika replied. "That's not a short time. Besides, why is it so hard to believe? Can't you trust your own eyes? Can't you trust your own senses? I mean, you felt it firsthand." He began walking back towards the miners' camp.

"It's hard to believe because when I left you, you could barely handle a sword," Ikkaku pointed out. "You would have balked at killing a fly. And now I'm supposed to believe that you were able to kill those men without even touching them? And you're not even bothered by it?"

"Are you sure you're not just jealous?" Yumichika threw back carelessly.

Ikkaku reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "Don't dodge the issue, Yumichika."

Yumichika was surprised by the gravity in Ikkaku's manner. He turned and faced Ikkaku squarely.

"I've learned how to defend myself," he said evenly. "My reiatsu is my weapon."

Ikkaku struggled to find words. He wasn't exactly sure what it was that he wanted to say. He only knew that he did not believe what he was hearing. He knew what he'd felt. The overpowering reiatsu had been effused with Yumichika's reiatsu, but it hadn't been Yumichika's alone. It was not the same reiatsu that Yumichika had used to ensnare him.

Not only that, but the very thought of Yumichika possessing such power was a prick in Ikkaku's side. He _was_ jealous. He didn't even want to think that Yumichika could surpass him in fighting an enemy.

"I don't believe you," he said at last.

Yumichika scowled. "I don't know what you expect me to say, then. If you don't believe that I killed them, then what—"

Ikkaku pulled him closer so that their faces were only inches apart.

"Before I got here, I felt something," he began, his voice low and hissing. "It was the most powerful reiatsu I've ever felt, but it wasn't yours."

"It _was_ mine—"

Ikkaku shook him once. "I _know_ your reiatsu, Yumichika! You've used it on me often enough! You've used it to humiliate me! I know what it _feels_ like! And this wasn't your reiatsu. I felt your reiatsu somewhere in there, but what I'm talking about was far beyond what you could ever possess."

Yumichika didn't know whether to be flattered or angry; but Ikkaku's next words drove the anger right into his heart.

"You even brought him here, didn't you?"

Yumichika could barely control his voice. "Brought who?"

"The hollow."

With a burst of rage, Yumichika pulled free of Ikkaku's grasp. "How can you say that to me again? I can't—I can't believe you still think that!" he shouted. "Just because you don't believe I could have killed those men, you're convinced it was a hollow! And not just any hollow, but one that I've been hanging around with all this time. You are . . . you are an idiot!"

"How else could you have found me? Of all the places in Soul Society I could have gone, somehow you miraculously manage to find me when I had gone so far away," Ikkaku challenged. "And yeah, you're more powerful – I can feel that. But what I felt back there was . . . it couldn't possibly have been you."

Yumichika crossed his arms. "Why not?"

"Because the thing back there was . . . " He struggled to find the words. "It was dark and . . . hungry. Ravenous." He paused. "Are you going to tell me that's what you've become? Or is your reiatsu just getting out of control again? Like it did with me?"

"I can control my reiatsu just fine!" Yumichika shot back. "I did what I did to you because I wanted to! It was no accident!"

"That would make you cruel and vindictive—"

"I'm neither of those things!" Yumichika answered.

"But a hollow is."

An image of the fire cave flashed through Yumichika's mind. This was not what he wanted. He tried to focus on the frigid detachment of the ice cave.

"This is ridiculous," he said, shaking his head and starting to walk again. "You don't want to believe I'm stronger than you, so you dredge up this absurd notion that I'm consorting with some hollow—"

Before Ikkaku could respond, the sound of pounding footsteps came from behind them.

They turned to see three men approaching.

"There 'e is! Tha him! The one wi' the long hair!" One of them yelled, pointing at Yumichika.

One of the other men made a face of disdain through his rage. "_He_ killed your father?"

"And Mansui and Lotho! Haiman! He kill them all!"

Yumichika regarded them with disinterest. "I don't want any trouble."

The second man pointed, his entire arm shaking, his mouth spewing foam. "I saw you, too! I saw wha' you do!"

Yumichika felt a flash of anxiousness. Two of the men had seen him use Ruri'iro Kujaku in his released form. And if they said anything about that now, Ikkaku would know that Yumichika was hiding something from him.

But Ikkaku's next words made the situation even worse.

He took a step back and made a sweeping motion with his arm. "They're all yours, Yumichika. Why don't you show me how you can crush other men with your reiatsu."

Yumichika stood stricken. What was he going to do now? He couldn't fight these men as he had fought the previous ones. He couldn't release Ruri'iro Kujaku in front of Ikkaku.

He put his hand on the hilt at his waist. He would have to fight using sword form. But before he could draw the weapon, Ikkaku had snatched the zanpakuto from him.

"No, no. They're unarmed, and that little stick doesn't count," Ikkaku refused, referring to the wooden branch one was brandishing menacingly. "Besides, I want you to do what you did to the ones back there."

Ikkaku's words were permission for the three men to advance. "I tol' you! It was him! It was him!" With that, they charged forward.

Yumichika didn't know what to do, and that delay sent him to the ground under the pummeling fists of his assailants.

Ikkaku stood and watched for half a minute, waiting to see if Yumichika would use his newly acquired power, and then indulging in smug satisfaction when no such power was forthcoming. It was as Ikkaku had suspected. Yumichika could not crush his enemies with his reiatsu. He had not killed the four men back at the quarry. The overwhelming reiatsu Ikkaku had felt could only have belonged to a hollow. Yumichika was lying to him.

At length, he stepped forward and in a matter of seconds had pulled the three men off of Yumichika, who was bruised and bloodied a bit but had sustained no serious injuries.

Incredibly enough, Ikkaku was in no mood to fight. He wanted only one thing and that was to get the truth from Yumichika and then decide how to proceed.

"That's enough," he warned the three men, who were already back on their feet and ready to finish what they had started.

"We na done wi' him yet! He gonna pay for what he done!" the first man shouted.

Ikkaku drew Yumichika to his feet, then said to the men without looking at them. "I suggest you go back and bury your dead. If you come after us, you'll just join them." He began walking, taking Yumichika with him.

"I tol' you we na finished here yet!"

Ikkaku ignored him.

"You tay one ma step, we bring whole camp afta you, and we not stop 'til we kill you boths!"

Ikkaku frowned. This was a nuisance, and it was all Yumichika's fault. Who would ever have thought that it would be Yumichika instead of Ikkaku who was being chased down for violence?

Ikkaku came to a halt.

Yumichika turned to him. "Ikkaku , I can handle this on my own. You just—you can go back to the city—"

"So you can call on your hollow friend? Nothing doing."Ikkaku took him by the arm and led him several paces down the road to a rocky outcropping. "You already had your chance. Now, sit here and don't move."

Yumichika did as he was told.

The fight was short-lived.

Ikkaku had not wanted to fight, but once he'd gotten started, the ember had been fanned. He took on the first man, and suddenly, as he sat perched on the man's chest, he felt a release inside him. All the anger he felt towards Yumichika came pouring out of him in a brutal onslaught. And he was enjoying himself.

He began to laugh. How good it felt to give vent to all the frustrations, the rage, and the uncertainty that Yumichika's reappearance had wrought in him. He could lose himself in the heat of the moment. And he did. Everything he had worked so hard to suppress and regulate came flooding to the surface.

"Ikkaku, that's enough." It was Yumichika's voice, his gentle hand on Ikkaku's shoulder. "Stop."

The gleam faded from Ikkaku's eye. He stopped swinging and leaned back.

"He's finished." Yumichika tugged at his sleeve. "The others have run away. Let's go."

Ikkaku got to his feet with a grunt, spat on the man, and started walking. Yumichika followed him, one step behind. They walked in silence for several minutes, then Ikkaku sneered, "So, what stopped you from using your reiatsu? Why didn't you just crush them?"

When Yumichika made no answer, Ikkaku launched into a tirade. "Because that was all a lie! You didn't want to call out the hollow in front of me. And you couldn't even fight them skin-on-skin . . . so you went down, and I had to save you! Again!" He paused, and his anger increased. He stopped walking and glared at Yumichika. "You know, these things wouldn't happen to you if you weren't so . . . so . . . why don't you cut your hair and wear clothes that make you look like a man? Maybe if you acted like a man, other men would leave you alone. Maybe you wouldn't need to rely on that hollow so much!"

Yumichika was stunned. Where had that remark come from? Ikkaku hadn't attacked Yumichika's appearance since the day they'd met. He wanted to say something back, but no retort was forthcoming. He was afraid he might give in to his upset again, so he grabbed Ruri'iro Kujaku out of Ikkaku's hand, turned and started walking again.

Ikkaku reached out and took hold of his arm. "Where are you going?"

"Back to the mines," Yumichika replied, pulling his arm loose.

Ikkaku grabbed him again, this time forcefully. "You can't go back there. Those guys you killed were gypsies. Don't you think the two who ran away will be coming back soon with the entire fucking camp?"

"Don't talk like that around me," Yumichika glowered.

Ikkaku looked at him with wide-eyed disbelief. "Are you kidding? You're about to be overtaken by a camp full of angry men, and you're worried about my language?" He started walking quickly, pulling Yumichika along with him.

"What are you doing?" Yumichika demanded. "Where are you taking me?"

"We're leaving."

"Leaving—"

"Leaving Guckoo," Ikkaku glowered. "Don't drag your feet. We've got a lot more walking to do."

Yumichika was stunned.

_We. We're leaving. We've got a lot more walking to do._

"But—but you said—you said you didn't—want me with—with you." He could barely complete the sentence, Ikkaku was moving so quickly, heading off the path, uphill and inland.

"We'll worry about that later," Ikkaku snapped. "Right now, we need to get out of here before there's more trouble."

"But I need to get my things—"

"You've got everything you need."

"But my—"

"Another word and I swear, I'll knock you out and carry you."

They continued on for another hour, Ikkaku constantly on the lookout for pursuit over his shoulder.

They did not speak as they went. Darkness fell, and still they kept moving.

Yumichika did not know whether to feel joy or dread. Everything had changed so suddenly, and he feared when they had finished running, things would change again. He could hear Ruri'iro Kujaku pressing for attention. He knew the zanpakuto was worried, but he couldn't risk opening up to him at the moment. Ruri'iro Kujaku tended to arouse strong emotions in him, and this was not the time. He was determined to stay cold and distant. He was not going to give in to his emotions. He was not going to succumb to hope or despair. He would let Ikkaku determine the course of events.

But Ikkaku himself had no clear plan. After all, he hadn't intended to end up fleeing Guckoo with Yumichika in tow. He had gone up to the miners' camp planning to ease into a permanent separation. And now here he was, being forced to abandon a place he'd actually felt comfortable. Proof, once again, that he belonged nowhere.

Nowhere.

Close to midnight, they entered a line of trees running north-south across the ridge of the highest down, and here Ikkaku decided they were safely out of danger. He led the way into a tight thicket.

"We'll stay here tonight," he announced.

Ikkaku staked out a corner and sat down with his sword across his lap. "We should be safe, but if they've managed to follow us, I expect you to take out that sword and fight – even if they're unarmed. They won't be coming to teach us a lesson. They'll be coming to kill us. I'll take first watch. You'd better get some sleep."

Yumichika was surprised Ikkaku did not want to talk about what had happened, but he felt a sense of relief. He took a place on the opposite side of the thicket, lying down on his side and hugging his zanpakuto to his chest. Now that the intensity of the evening's events had passed, he found himself exhausted, yet he was anxious to enter his inner world. He needed the comfort and solace that only Ruri'iro Kujaku could provide.

The zanpakuto was waiting for him in the maroon room.

Yumichika rushed into his arms.

"Master . . ." Ruri'iro Kujaku embraced him.

"I don't know what's going on," Yumichika lamented. "What—he just showed up, and I don't—I don't understand what he was doing there. And he thinks—he still thinks you're a hollow."

Ruri'rio Kujaku could hear the distress in his master's voice, in the disjointed jumble of words that had just spilled forth. He held him tighter. "He's believed that for a long time now. What he saw today only confirmed it in his mind."

"How could he think I would have anything to do with a hollow?" Yumichika groaned. "He'll never believe that the power he felt is mine."

Ruri'iro Kujaku raised Yumichika's head. "There's an easy way to resolve that problem. Tell him about me."

Yumichika made a sound of hopelessness. "I can't do that, Ruri'iro Kujaku. You heard him. He's so angry at me right now. If I told him about you, if I showed you to him, he'd be livid. He'd leave me behind again."

"Kimi." Ruri'iro spoke as gently as he could. "He may yet leave you. He hasn't told you what he intends to do."

"I just don't understand him. He cares about me. I know he does," Yumichika insisted.

"I don't doubt that," Ruri'iro agreed. "That's what scares him. That's what has always been at the core of his reluctance. He doesn't want to care, but it's too late. The only way he can put distance between you is to . . . put distance between you."

Yumichika replied. "He means everything to me."

Ruri'iro Kujaku's heart sank. "I know," he whispered.

"I've been such a fool, haven't I?" Yumichika groaned.

The reikon sighed. "A fool? No. But I think this whole journey was a mistake. I know I can't convince you otherwise. I know you love him for reasons I can't comprehend. And I know I will always lose out to him. But I could never think of you as a fool. You're my master, and I could not have been born of a fool."

Yumichika went on as if he hadn't even heard Ruri'iro's words. "This afternoon, after using you against those men, I felt—I felt so powerful, I felt . . . it was such a . . . a thrill. And then Ikkaku came, and I was excited and . . . deflated at the same time. Why does he refuse to believe I could have grown that strong?"

Ruri'iro was very careful when he spoke. "Because you haven't."

Yumichika looked up at him with questioning eyes.

"Kimi-san, you have grown strong, very strong," Ruri'iro said. "But what Madarame felt wasn't just you. Remember, that's what he said? It wasn't just you. It was me. It was our combined powers, and . . . mine is still much greater than yours. So, Madarame was right to doubt that it was your power. And since he doesn't know about me, he assumes what he felt was a hollow." He raised his hand to Yumichika's cheek. "Kimi . . . master . . . tell him about me. It's time for you to tell him."

Yumichika lowered his head. A grief-filled sigh escaped his lips. "I can't. I just can't. After all this time, I can't risk it. I couldn't bear losing him again. And I can't—I have to be careful using you. I can't let him feel that again."

Ruri'iro's initial instinct was to protest, but he could see that his master was terribly upset, and he did not want to do anything to make him more so. He held his peace.

Several minutes passed before Yumichika eased away. "I'm sorry. I know that's not what you wanted to hear."

"No, it's not," Ruri'iro admitted. "But I will obey your decision."

Yumichika knew how important a promise this was. Ruri'iro Kujaku was certainly able to do whatever he pleased. The only thing that stopped him from revealing himself to Madarame was the devotion he felt towards his master.

It was the depth of that devotion that Yumichika was counting on.

* * *

><p>Ikkaku looked at Yumichika across the darkness.<p>

In sleep, with the added dimension of peaceful innocence upon him, he was too beautiful to contend with, and yet Ikkaku could not retire the anger he felt for him. Yumichika had deceived him before, but for all Ikkaku's vocal concerns about a hollow, he had never been fully convinced of its existence. But the scene at the quarry had been a shock and revived all the worrisome suspicions of the past.

The power Ikkaku had felt was far beyond anything he had felt from Yumichika before. He had felt Yumichika's reiatsu somewhere in the jumble of energy, but the overwhelming reiatsu that had wreaked the loss of life he had seen . . . that had not been Yumichika's.

And Yumichika's careless nonchalance about what had happened was so out-of-character that Ikkaku could never have imagined him acting that way. What could have changed him so much in the fourteen months?

It didn't take Ikkaku long to decide on the answer. Yumichika had been, for the first time since coming to Soul Society, out in the world, in unfamiliar surroundings, encountering hostility and without Ikkaku to come to his aide.

But that hadn't meant he was defenseless.

He had grown more powerful and developed into a passable swordsman; but clearly, he had an even greater asset at his disposal.

All of which presented Ikkaku with a pressing dilemma.

He had left Venla with the intent of leaving Yumichika behind as well, to keep him safe from not only his father but also the violence that would inevitably befall him as Ikkaku's companion. He had even convinced himself that he was enjoying the return to the kind of life he had lived previously.

And then Yumichika had shown up completely out of the blue, and Ikkaku had handled it badly. But somehow, he had ended up here in the woods in the middle of the night, Yumichika sleeping opposite him, and it was all his own doing. And he was miserable.

How had he come to this? A little over a year ago, he had been enjoying the greatest peace he had ever known. He had found a place where he fit in, where he belonged. And he had found someone who cared for him even more than he cared for himself. But he should have known he could never escape his past. Somehow, it had found him, even in the furthest reaches of Soul Society. And with it had returned all the pain and sadness, the anger and violence; so he had fled, leaving behind the only person he'd ever loved.

_Loved._

_Loved!_

No! No, he didn't love Yumichika! He had even told Yumichika as much. Love was nowhere on his list of acceptable emotions. He enjoyed Yumichika's company. He cared about his welfare and well-being. He admired him for his even temper and good nature. But he did not love him. The topic was not even worth consideration.

Now that the matter of how he felt towards Yumichika was settled in Ikkaku's mind – or at least, he insisted the matter was settled – he turned to more immediate and pressing concerns, foremost of which was the issue of the hollow. If, in fact, it was a hollow. Ikkaku had spoken with surety earlier, but the fact was he felt more uncertain than certain. He needed proof positive of a hollow before he could decide how to proceed. That being the case, if he left Yumichika now or sent him away, what would happen if it were a hollow? What would become of Yumichika?

But then, if it were a hollow, it had been present for almost the whole of their acquaintance and Yumichika seemed none the worse for it.

Or was he?

Yumichika had always been one of the gentlest, most resigned souls Ikkaku had ever known. Even with his self-love and often arrogant manner, Yumichika had always been magnanimous and thoughtful, retreating from the very idea of bloodshed.

And now Ikkaku was supposed to believe that he had killed four men just like that?

True, there had been no _bloodshed _per se, and that held with Yumichika's aesthetic tastes; but the idea that Yumichika would crush four men to death – even in self-defense – well, it was not believable.

Ikkaku rubbed his hands over his face. What was he going to do?

He got up and walked to the opening of the thicket, looking up at the starlit sky through the waving branches overhead. He could walk away and leave Yumichika, but what good would that do? Yumichika had already shown that he was able to track him even over great distances. And did he really want to leave Yumichika alone with whatever it was that was accompanying him?

He had been standing there several minutes formulating options when Yumichika's voice drew his attention.

"Are you leaving?"

Ikkaku hesitated. When he answered, he did not face him. "No. Not right now, at least. I don't know what I'm going to do."

"I can feel your reiatsu—"

"Stop it, Yumichika," Ikkaku cut him off. "I don't like you reading my reiatsu. You know that."

"I can't help it."

"That's part of the problem."

Yumichika sighed, a look of sadness coming into his eyes. "I don't know what to do anymore. Everything I say or do—"

"Don't start, Yumichika. I have to think about what's happened," Ikkaku cut him off.

A long silence followed, then Yumichika asked, "Why did you come up to the quarry? Were you looking for me?"

Ikkaku did not answer.

"Ikkaku?"

After a lengthy pause, Ikkaku replied, "I _was_ looking for you. I was going to tell you that . . . that our friendship had come to an end, that it was best if we never saw each other again."

Yumichika cast him a horrified stare in the darkness but he said nothing.

Ikkaku went on. "It would be for your own good and mine." A pause. "But then when I saw what had happened, I . . . I wasn't so sure anymore. I'm afraid for what you might do, what might happen to you. You've got something going on that's . . . it's scary, Yumichika."

"This is because you think my power comes from a hollow?" Yumichika put forth.

"I've always thought that, Yumichika," Ikkaku replied. "And it never made any difference in how I felt about you. I never let it come between us."

"But now?"

"I don't know. Something's different. You're not the same person—"

"Is it because I've become more powerful than you?"

Ikkaku was caught off-guard, and he covered his shock by scoffing, "That's the most ridiculous thing you've ever said. You're not even close to my strength."

"I killed those men back there. You don't believe me—"

"When you had the chance to show me your power, you didn't," Ikkaku pointed out. "You couldn't, because it wasn't really your power at all. But listen to you now! You really do believe you're stronger than I am." This was just the excuse he needed to justify a change of course. "That's what the hollow has done to you, made you overestimate your own ability. I probably—I probably should keep you close by just to make sure you don't get yourself killed."

Yumichika almost broke down in tears of relief at this announcement. "Whatever you think is best, Ikkaku."

Ikkaku clenched his teeth and sauntered over to where Yumichika sat. "Don't think this is some great victory for you, Yumichika. I still think it would be best if we went our separate ways, but I also don't want to see you lose yourself to a hollow. At least, if you're with me, I can keep an eye on you."

"How can I convince you there is no hollow?" Yumichika asked. No sooner had he asked the question than he realized the shocking truth of the situation. It was Ikkaku's fear of the hollow's existence that had made him decide to stay with Yumichika. If it were proven that there was no hollow, the possibility existed that Ikkaku would once again act upon ending their friendship.

"You can show me your ability," Ikkaku replied in a curt voice.

Yumichika considered his answer. "Even if I did that, you'd still think my power came from a hollow."

"Give me another explanation," Ikkaku pressed.

"I've grown strong."

Ikkaku wasn't buying it. "Then why didn't you use your power against those three men? Why did I have to come to your rescue?"

Yumichika was silent.

"If you want me to believe you've grown that powerful, then tell me why you didn't kill those three men with your reiatsu?" Ikkaku waited. "Yumichika?"

"I don't know why." It was a weak answer, and both of them knew it. Only Yumichika knew it was a purposefully weak answer. He found himself in the incredible position of having to leave the question of the hollow's existence open to speculation.

"You don't know? You had no problem unleashing your reiatsu against me, but it didn't kill me, and it didn't feel anything like what I felt back there. And then three men were ready to beat you to death, and you didn't do anything to stop them. Where was your mighty reiatsu then?" Ikkaku was incredulous.

"You'll never believe anything other than what you've already got your mind set on," Yumichika mumbled.

"Because you don't have any reasonable explanation," Ikkaku huffed. "I know I felt someone else's reiatsu, and if you won't reveal him to me, then I'll have to lure him out myself."

"Ikkaku—"

"Not another word, Yumichika. Not unless it's to tell me who's been helping you all this time," Ikkaku cut him off. "I've made the decision to start looking out for you again, and that's more than I intended. Don't push it."

Yumichika grumbled as he lay back down. "Lucky me."

"You said something?" Ikkaku challenged.

Yumichika shrugged, determined to maintain his detached coolness, despite what he was feeling inside. "Not a thing. If silence is what you want, I can accommodate you."

"Huh, that would be a first," Ikkaku shot back.

"Are you going to stand there and throw insults at me or can I go back to sleep?" Yumichika asked smugly. He knew he had won the fight, if not the battle.

"Go back to sleep," Ikkaku replied, then returning to his own corner, he mumbled, "I can't believe this."

"You won't leave while I'm asleep?"

"It's tempting," Ikkaku said. "But no, I won't leave."

Yumichika smiled to himself. "That's good . . . because you know I would be able to find you again."

Ikkaku frowned. What was he getting himself into?

Again?

* * *

><p>Ruri'iro Kujaku was stupefied.<p>

What he was feeling was raw, brutal and very close.

And . . . lazy. Incredibly lazy.

The presence he had only just barely ascertained during the months of journeying with his master now accosted his senses with such vitality that it made him feel nearly frantic with curiosity.

He flitted about the maroon room with nervous energy, unable to settle upon any one spot, unable to concentrate his senses long enough to examine the source of his excitement. Finally, without thought or intent, he broke out into the open space beyond the tapestries, directed only by instinct.

His flight led him to the shrine, where he alit on the flower mosaic. Here, in the center of his power, he corralled his wits, calmed his raging senses, and closed his eyes in an attempt to discern precisely what was pulling so fiercely at him.

_"What's the big mystery?"_

Ruri'iro Kujaku jumped and whirled around, looking for the sound of the voice that had spoken. What he saw astounded him. At the opposite end of the shrine was a great arched window, glassless and looking out onto the emptiness. Only this time it wasn't completely empty. One of the myriad of mirrors that floated loosely through the inner world had drifted into view. As the reikon moved closer and looked out the window, he could see in the rotating glass, a cloudy image slowly growing clearer.

It was a creature the likes of which he had never seen before. The shape of a man with the face of an animal – but what kind of animal? A body the size of a mountain covered with reddish-brown fur, wearing nothing but a loin cloth.

Ruri'iro Kujaku was besotted – immediately and completely. The creature wasn't even beautiful in a physical sense, but that mattered not one bit. Ruri'iro felt an instant kinship – an infatuation rivaled only by his love for his master.

"Who are you?" he asked.

The being in the mirror squinted at him. "Wow, you're pretty showy, aren't you?"

"Showy?"

"Over-the-top," the being replied. "I wondered what you looked like. I didn't know you'd find a way to communicate with me."

"I . . . I . . . "

"I, I, I," the being scoffed. "You sound like my master. Stupid."

"Your _master_?"

"Yeah. The blockhead your master is so ape over."

Ruri'iro Kujaku could only stare dumbfounded at the image.

"What's wrong with you?" the being asked. "You've been hunting my master for months, reaching out to snag little bits of his reiatsu so you could find him. Even I felt that. You're damned strong. Stronger than you look, that's for sure. So, why do you look so shocked now? Didn't you know I existed?"

Ruri'iro regained some of his composure. "I knew something was there, but I didn't know it was another—" He swallowed down his hope. "Are you a zanpakuto?"

"Yep. For all the good it will do me. I don't think my master will ever figure it out. His skull is thicker than brick."

"I don't—I don't—this is . . . incredible!" Ruri'iro Kujaku leapt through the window, coming to the mirror and holding up his hand to touch it.

It was only glass.

"How were you able to do this?" the kujaku asked. "How am I able to see you?"

"I'm not doing it," the creature replied. "You're doing it. This kido stuff is your deal, not mine."

"Kido? You can sense that my power is kido?" Ruri'iro asked.

"I can," came the reply. "But my master can't. Your master hides it from him, but I can feel it. I can even see it when I look at you." A pause. "I figured you'd be easy on the eyes, but I didn't think you'd be so flashy."

Ruri'iro smiled. He took it as a compliment. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Hoozukimaru."

"That's an odd name."

"I like it. It has a brutal sound to it. What's yours?"

"Ruri'iro Kujaku."

"Azure Peacock? Suits you."

"You're a zanpakuto, but Madarame doesn't know you exist yet?" Ruri'iro posed.

"He hears me, but he thinks it's his own voice. And I'll tell ya, after all the bone-headed things he's done, I'm gonna make him work for it. If he ever discovers my existence, he's gonna have to prove he deserves me," Hoozukimaru grinned, giving his face a diabolical appearance.

"So, you agree he's bone-headed," Ruri'iro said with a gleam in his eye.

"Yeah, but he's my master. I've gotta take him as he is," Hoozukimaru replied, then adding with a gruff inflection that didn't match his words. "Your master's got a way about him, hasn't he?"

Ruri'iro Kujaku puffed up with pride. "You could say that."

"He's the best thing for my master, I can tell you that," Hoozukimaru intoned.

"Hm, well your master isn't the best thing for my master. Or me," Ruri'iro replied.

"Yeah. I guess things are kinda tough for you."

"Kind of tough? I hate being hidden," Ruri'iro sulked.

"If I looked like you, I'd hate being hidden, too," Hoozukimaru replied. "But hey, you know you're still the one in control right now. As long as your master keeps you hidden, he'll never surpass you. He'll never learn all the stuff you could teach him."

Ruri'iro Kujaku was silent.

"You don't want him to surpass you, do you?" Hoozukimaru asked.

The azure peacock colored and lowered his eyes. "I think I do." His voice took on a pensive tenor. "You don't know . . . something happens when he uses his power, when he calls on me. All I want is for him to grow stronger, so that he . . . so that he appreciates what we can do together." Before he could say anymore, he felt the arrival of his master in the inner world. "He's come. I have to go to him." He turned to leave, but stopped for a moment. "Will I be able to see you again?"

"I don't know. Like I said, this is your doing, not mine."

Ruri'iro Kujaku nodded. "Then I'll try to do it again."

"I'll be here."

"Good-bye, Hoozukimaru." With that, he was off, his thoughts filled with excitement over this new development.

Another zanpakuto! And he, Ruri'iro Kujaku, had the power to initiate conversation! Granted, he had no idea how he'd done it, but what did that matter? He'd figure it out. It was amazing! It was cause for celebration!

He could not wait to tell his master.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28 The River

_"You don't even walk my road.  
><em>_Can't find where you turned.  
><em>_Looked away and you were gone.  
><em>_Now we're on our own.  
><em>_Old man, is this why we're alone?"_

_You  
><em>John Lodge

* * *

><p>Yumichika was mildly surprised to find that Ruri'iro Kujaku was not in the maroon room. After everything that had transpired in the past eight hours, he had expected to find the kujaku waiting for him, ready to sooth and comfort.<p>

Only, this time it would likely be the reikon who was in need of comfort. The re-entrance of Ikkaku into Yumichika's life was going to necessitate a few changes, the foremost among them being the limitation of Ruri'iro's access to the outside world. Even though the two of them had addressed the matter before, after so many months of almost unlimited freedom, the restriction would come as a hard blow. Yumichika was not looking forward to the discussion, especially after Ruri'iro Kujaku had been so good to him, during both the search and the rejection.

He would wait a few more seconds before summoning the zanpakuto. He knew Ruri'iro was capable of detecting his entry into the inner world; so if the reikon failed to appear, it would not be due to lack of knowledge of his master's presence.

But that fear was put to rest in the next moment as Ruri'iro Kujaku glided into the room.

"Master!" The kujaku was downright ecstatic, and his buoyancy surprised Yumichika. The last time he had seen him, which was only a few hours ago, they had both been troubled and melancholy.

"I have exciting news!" the peacock announced, alighting in front of Yumichika and putting his arms around him.

Yumichika looked up at him with an inquisitive expression. "I didn't expect to find you so happy. What is it? What's happened?"

The reikon's aura was swirling like a whirlwind, the colors fairly bursting with intensity. He spoke slowly, his voice deep and brimming with enthusiasm. "Madarame has a zanpakuto."

Yumichika wasn't sure he'd heard him correctly. "What?"

"Madarame has a zanpakuto," Ruri'iro repeated, and Yumichika could almost see the smile on the kujaku's face.

Yumichika stared at him, mouth agape and speechless.

"Remember I told you that I was sensing another presence around Madarame?" Ruri'iro went on. "I was right. There was someone else. It was his zanpakuto – just like you suspected!"

Yumichika shook his head, bemused. "I—I didn't think that—are you sure? How do you know?"

"I've seen him! Well, I've seen his image, and we spoke with each other!" Ruri'iro was so excited, he could barely put the words together.

"How? _How?_"

Ruri'iro Kujaku released him and twirled around like a dancer. "How? I don't know how!" he laughed joyfully. "I just . . . another zanpakuto! Madarame's zanpakuto!"

"Ruri'iro—"

Ruri'iro spun about the room, joyful energy radiating from him to the point where the whole place was growing brighter.

"Ruri'iro Ku—"

"I can't believe I've found someone like me—"

"Ruri'iro Kujaku!" Yumichika raised his voice authoritatively. "Come here and calm down."

Instead, Ruri'iro swooped forward, swept his master up, and soared into the darkness.

"What—what—what are you doing?" Yumichika demanded.

"Sharing my happiness with you!" Ruri'iro replied. He was moving faster than Yumichika had believed possible, coming to the reed bed of waving peacock feathers. Here, he dropped down and in one seamless motion, rolled his master onto the ground, laughing and kissing him with abandon. His passion was boundless, and it flowed out of him with the force of a raging river.

Yumichika could not catch his breath. He actually had the sensation of being smothered, which brought forth a gasp of urgency.

But Ruri'iro Kujaku did not let up. He ravaged his master's body as only he could until Yumichika lay limp and breathless beneath him, lolling in the warmth of the most glorious defeat imaginable.

Yumichika could not understand how the reikon did it. Even the most fulfilling sexual encounters of Yumichika's life could not compare to the love-making of this extraordinary being – a love-making devoid of the sexual act, but with a physical and an emotional intensity that could not be rivaled.

And although Yumichika and Ruri'iro had been intimate and passionate before, this exchange had been on a whole new level. When, at last, the reikon lay still atop his master, the latter finally was able to regain his breath. Exhausted and drained from having done absolutely nothing other than be the recipient of his zanpakuto's attention, Yumichika had to gather what little strength he had remaining to make even the slightest return of the affection he had just received. He managed, after a long minute or two, to raise one hand to gently stroke the small of his lover's back, and here he stopped.

His fingers were not feeling the feathery texture to which they were accustomed. No, they were running over skin – smooth, warm skin.

Yumichika opened his eyes. The air around him was glowing blue-green. He raised his head onto the clarity that he had so longed to see again. But as he took in the sight of Ruri'iro Kujaku's body against his, he suddenly felt light-headed. The reikon was, for the first time, fully naked and fully human in appearance; and even though Yumichika was only seeing the perfect line of his back and the powerful curve of his buttocks, the sight was too splendid to be borne.

What he had only dreamt of before was now there in front of him, and he could not even think to react. He laid his head back down; his hand dropped once more to his side. He couldn't even move. He didn't remember why he had come to his inner world or even what he and Ruri'iro had been speaking of before the ravishment had begun.

He felt movement on top of him, and in the next moment, Ruri'iro Kujaku was looking down at him in perfect lucidity. The violet eyes were soft and adoring. A doting smile animated the flawless mouth. The blue-black hair fell in unbound cascades of stunning effulgence.

Yumichika could only stare and command himself to keep breathing.

Ruri'iro Kujaku brushed his fingertips over Yumichika's lips, the wonder of exploration infusing his touch.

"My beautiful, beautiful master," he whispered, leaning in for a kiss.

But the kiss ended before it had even begun.

Yumichika fainted.

* * *

><p>He could smell the scent of cassia, balsam and spikenard. It was his favorite incense blend. It had a soothing effect on overwrought senses.<p>

Had he been overwrought?

He thought for a moment.

Yes. Yes, he definitely had – in more ways than one.

When Yumichika opened his eyes, he was back in the maroon room.

Sitting beside him on the bed was Ruri'iro Kujaku – once more obscured in his halo of light.

"Nooo," Yumichika groaned.

"I'm afraid so," Ruri'iro replied. His voice was kind and tinged with humor.

"But—but you were just—I could see you," Yumichika insisted.

"I warned you long ago that you would not be able to handle seeing me without my raiment," the reikon reminded him. He paused and with a tone of consideration, stated, "Of course, it wasn't my intention to reveal myself at all. It just happened. I suppose I was so overcome with joy that you were able to see me in my most basic form."

"Your . . . most basic? _That_ was your most basic form?" Yumichika was incredulous.

"Well . . . yes. The feathers might be what comes most naturally to me, but my basic appearance is the one you just saw. I have a body like yours, even though I'm not human," Ruri'iro explained.

"What about your sword form? And your shikai?" Yumichika asked.

"My sword form is hardly basic," Ruri'iro sniffed. "My appearance in that form may be simple, but the interior existence is complex. As for my shikai, that is even more advanced."

"Couldn't you—couldn't you just appear to me the way I saw you that day by the stream?" Yumichika implored.

"If I knew how to do it, I would," came the resigned answer. "But I don't control that. It just happens."

"And this time it happened because . . . because you were so excited—"

"About Madarame's zanpakuto!"

Yumichika sat up and held his head. He still felt a little woozy.

Incredibly enough, as anxious as he was to address the topic of Ikkaku possessing a zanpakuto, he was also feeling a peculiar pang of . . . could it be . . . jealousy? Or was it merely disappointment? The moment of clarity they had just shared had not come about through any incitement on his own part. He'd played absolutely no role in it. He'd only been fortunate enough to appear in his inner world at the right moment to reap the benefits wrought by someone – or something – else.

"You should lay back, master," Ruri'iro cautioned. "You've been through a lot lately."

Yumichika brushed off this advice. "I'm fine. So, tell me exactly what happened. How can you be sure Ikkaku has a zanpakuto?"

The reikon was so excited to tell his story that the words poured out of him like water rushing over a fall.

"I was waiting for you to come to me, and all I could feel was this overwhelming sense of . . . brute strength and raw power. I don't know why, but somehow I knew that it was the presence I'd been sensing around Madarame all these months. It was . . . it was . . . intoxicating." He paused.

From the reikon's motions and the deepening of his colors, Yumichika could tell his zanpakuto was still suffering from that inebriation. That prick of jealousy stuck him again, this time with a little more force.

Ruri'iro Kujaku continued with his story. "The next thing I knew, I was heading for the shrine—"

"Why the shrine?" Yumichika asked warily, knowing that the structure was the core of Ruri'iro Kujaku's power.

Ruri'iro shook his head. "I don't know. Instinct, I guess. When I got there, I was thinking, trying to figure out what I was sensing, and I heard a voice. And then, in one of the mirrors floating outside the shrine, I could see him. I could see him! He told me he was Madarame's zanpakuto."

"How can you be sure he was telling you the truth?" Yumichika asked doubtfully.

"I just am," Ruri'iro answered, completely self-assured. "He knew about Madarame. He talked about him. He talked about you!" Again and without warning, the kujaku sprang up from the bed and zipped about the room like a shooting star, leaving a trail of sparkling reiatsu in his wake. After several seconds of the laughter-filled spectacle, he returned to Yumichika, still sitting on the bed, looking on in bewilderment. "Don't you see, master? This is the answer we've been looking for! Once Madarame discovers he has a zanpakuto, then he won't care if you have one, too!"

"Ruri'iro—"

"You'll be able to show me to him! You won't have to hide me anymore!"

Yumichika stared at him. "Kimi—"

"And I'll have someone else I can communicate with, so I won't be so demanding when it comes to your time! Master, it's perfect! It's all perfect!"

"Kimi, slow down—"

"You could help Madarame discover—"

"Be quiet for one second, Fuji Kujaku!"

Ruri'iro Kujaku fell immediately silent. His halo took on a crimson hue, and he shifted away from his master.

Yumichika drew in a deep breath. "I'm sorry, kimi; but you wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise."

"I hate when you call me that name," Ruri'iro sulked, the joy and excitement of only seconds ago now completely gone.

"I hate it, too," Yumichika replied. "But this is a serious matter, and you were getting carried away. We need to talk about this."

"I thought you'd be happy about it," Ruri'iro pouted.

"If it's true, then yes, I'll be happy," Yumichika said, "But it just seems . . . we need to be careful. Tell me what he said."

Ruri'iro looked at him bleakly, the wind gone from his sails. "He just told me he was Madarame's zanpakuto," he answered, deflated and dejected.

Yumichika sighed. He had hurt Ruri'iro Kujaku's feelings, and now he was probably not going to get any useful information. He was going to have to let the syrup flow.

"You said he talked about me," he put forth. "What did he say?"

"He said you were the best thing to ever happen to Madarame."

Yumichika's smile was filled the false sweetness his thoughtlessness now necessitated. "That's probably true. What did you tell him?"

The reikon shrugged and turned away. "Nothing."

Yumichika came and stood behind him, rubbing his arm gently. "Kimi, please don't be angry. I'm sorry for calling you that. I'm just . . . I'm worried about you."

This statement shocked Ruri'iro Kujaku. "Worried about me? Why?"

"I just want to make sure you're not—you're not falling for some kind of trick—"

"Listen to you," Ruri'iro said, his voice uncharacteristically caustic as he turned to face Yumichika. "You sound like Madarame."

"What do you mean by that?"

"He doesn't believe you when you tell him there's no hollow." He paused. "And you don't believe me when I tell you I've met his zanpakuto."

"It's not that I don't believe you," Yumichika insisted. "But I do think it's something I should check out. If some other being is able to penetrate your world, that's not—"

"He didn't penetrate it. I told you, I only saw him in the mirror. That's how I spoke to him, as well."

"Then show him to me," Yumichika said, couching the statement as a suggestion.

"I don't know if I can," Ruri'iro replied. "I didn't mean to contact him, and I'm not sure if I can do it again." A pause. "And even if I could, I wouldn't show him to you. The first person to see him should be Madarame. "

"But you've seen him," Yumichika pressed.

"I'm a zanpakuto," Ruri'iro defended. "That's different."

"What's his name?" Yumichika asked.

"That's also between him and Madarame."

"Do you know his name?"

"Yes. And he knows mine. He knows a lot of things," Ruri'iro said.

Yumichika was silent in deliberation. The idea of Ikkaku having a zanpakuto was not far-fetched. The likelihood that Ruri'iro Kujaku could communicate with that zanpakuto was also not outside the realm of possibilities. More and more of the peacock's kido-based skills had come to light over the years. This could easily be one more of those abilities.

It was not something Yumichika could dismiss. Ruri'iro Kujkau would not make up such a story, which meant he had, indeed, encountered someone. Just who that someone was – that was the question.

Yumichika winced inside. He did sound like Ikkaku. In not trusting his own zanpakuto, he was denigrating their entire relationship. Of course, there was one glaring difference in their situations. Ikkaku thought Yumichika was lying to him, purposefully deceiving him. Yumichika simply thought Ruri'iro Kujaku was being fooled.

Now, _that_ was idiotic. If anything, Ruri'iro Kujaku had a better feel for the workings of the inner world and all things kido. It was much more likely that Yumichika would fall victim to some manner of deception than Ruri'iro Kujaku.

He would trust him. He would trust him but remain vigilant. Now, when everything hung in the balance, when he appeared to be on the threshold of regaining a life with Ikkaku, Yumichika could not take any chances.

"If you're right," he began carefully, "what do you think I should do? Should I tell him?"

"No," Ruri'iro answered right away. "He will have to come to know his zanpakuto on his own, but you might be able to give him some hints, point him in the right direction."

"I don't know how I'd do that," Yumichika said.

"Just . . . keep an eye out for openings and then encourage him," Ruri'iro suggested. "Just think how wonderful it will be when Madarame has his own zanpakuto, and you won't have to hide me anymore!"

Again, Yumichika spoke with caution. "His zanpakuto is also kido-based?"

Ruri'iro Kujaku seemed taken aback. "I . . . I didn't sense that he was."

Yumichika sighed. "Kimi, it's not just the fact of having a zanpakuto—"

"I know that," Ruri'iro cut him off impatiently. "I know he despises kido, but if he has his own zanpakuto, maybe that will make him less likely to care about kido." Even as he said these words, the recollection of Hoozukimaru rose in his mind. Everything about the zanpakuto had been brute force, an overpowering physical presence. His beauty had lain in the simplicity of his energy – physical strength. No more, no less. Ruri'iro Kujaku found himself growing excited again at the very thought. It was only his master's voice that prevented him from springing off in jubilation again.

"It may turn out that way," Yumichika was saying. "We'll have to wait and see. In the meantime, you're going to have to stay hidden."

Ruri'iro Kujaku only nodded.

"I know you understand, kimi," Yumichika said, his voice more like a plea than anything else.

The kujaku was resigned to the situation. It was the same disappointment he had suffered countless times before, but its impact never lessened. Only this time, he did have something that would mitigate the loneliness.

"Maybe I can use the time to know Madarame's zanpakuto better," he said.

Yumichika did not like the sound of this. Whether out of caution or jealousy, he simply did not like the idea of Ruri'iro Kujaku consorting with another being. "Kimi, I don't know if—" He could feel the reikon's mood sink. "Okay," he conceded. "Just . . . be careful. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you."

* * *

><p>"Where are we headed?"<p>

"I don't know. Who cares?"

Yumichika frowned. Clearly, any attempt to initiate conversation was going to be rebuffed. He and Ikkaku had left the thicket two days ago. They'd continued in a generally westward direction, staying to the fields and forests, avoiding any main roads. On the evening of the second day, they came upon a wood-cutter's hut. The place was clearly inhabited, but as it was empty upon their arrival, they scavenged a few things to eat and went on their way.

On the fourth day, their wanderings led them to the top of a wide mesa of sparse vegetation and colorful rock formations. Nearly three weeks later, descending the far slope into a wooded stretch, they spotted a river in the distance; and even though neither of them spoke the words, this landmark clearly became their destination.

It took another four days of steady moving to reach it. Coming to its eastern bank just before midday, they were both surprised to find that it was at least four hundred meters wide as far as the eye could see in either direction. There were no bridges, although the water was so slow-flowing that a ferry could have made it across. But there were no ferries. There were no settlements along the banks. This stretch of the river was uninhabited.

"What now?" Yumichika asked. "Do you want to cross it?" These were the most words he had spoken at one time since leaving the thicket. He had done his utmost to be accommodating and unobtrusive, but each kindness on his part had been met with a stark coldness on Ikkaku's.

The same held true now. Instead of replying, Ikkaku tied his sword tighter at his waist and waded into the water.

Still standing on the bank, Yumichika simpered. He knew Ikkaku's pigheadedness should not surprise him; but still, he found it nothing short of a marvel that Ikkaku had decided to cross at such a wide stretch of the river, instead of looking up- or downstream for a narrower crossing. True, the water was slow – therefore, probably deep; but the fall rains had not started yet, and the latter part of the summer had hosted drought conditions, so this spot was probably as safe as any. Only it would be along swim.

He watched as Ikkaku moved into deeper water until it became clear he was no longer walking but swimming. Ikkaku might be able to cross fully clothed, but that was because his attire was nothing more than a sleeveless kosode – and a threadbare one, at that – that barely reached below his privates. Yumichika had already decided that as soon as things got a bit smoother, replacing the disgusting piece of clothing would be at the top of his list.

But unlike the kosode, Yumichika's kimono was too heavy to wear into the water. Even though he was an excellent swimmer, it would have weighed him down too much; and he did not want to take the chance in uncertain waters. He disrobed and wound the kimono around his head like a turban. He used his obi to fashion a strap for his zanpakuto, which he slung over his shoulder.

He followed Ikkaku into the water.

Just like his running, Ikkaku's swimming was lumbersome and graceless.

And humorous to Yumichika's eyes. He had stayed behind Ikkaku the whole time, deeming himself the better swimmer of the two and wanting to remain in a position to render aid if Ikkaku suddenly found that his choice of crossings was a bit too much to handle. But as Ikkaku passed the halfway point, Yumichika found his vantage point was not only useful for keeping an eye on him, but for entertainment purposes, as well. Ikkaku made even plain, old swimming look like a water fight.

"Stop fighting the current!" Yumichika called out. "It's slow, so it will only take us a little downstream! Just go with it!"

Ikkaku shouted back something unintelligible, which Yumichika decided was probably a good thing, knowing Ikkaku's temperament these days.

A few strokes later, Yumichika heard the unmistakable rumble of thunder. Craning back over his shoulder, he saw the approach of a line of black storm clouds. The fall rains that had been heretofore absent were now sending forth their vanguard. The thunderheads were still far enough away that the rest of the river crossing could be made in safety, as long as there were no problems.

And then the problem came.

It started as a slight tingling through every part of Yumichika's body. It took several seconds for him to realize that what he was sensing was a foreign reiatsu. And his own intuition detected a hostility that caused him to shout out a warning only seconds before a spouting wall of water erupted from the river between him and Ikkaku.

Through the shower of foam and chaos, he could make out a towering figure rising from the water. Its lower body was obscured in the river; but its torso, while humanoid in appearance, was covered with glistening yellow scales that bled into black around the waist. Its head could hardly be called a head at all. The top of the body narrowed almost to a point, where a horrifyingly human face glared out from tiny eyes, and a bulbous tongue spewed forth a venom that made the water boil and hiss.

It had at least six arms that Yumichika could see, each set a different length, all of them thrashing wildly at the air and the water.

But that was not what made Yumichika's heart go cold.

The creature had a great hole in its chest.

It was a hollow.

And suddenly the mystery of why this part of the river was so empty became clear. The locals must have known that a hollow inhabited this area, and they'd stayed at a safe distance. Only foolish travelers, unfamiliar with the area, were at risk.

Yumichika strained to see over the roiling, frothing water.

"Ikkaku!" he called out. He received no answer, but an instant later, he watched as the hollow snatched at something in the water.

When the hand came up, Ikkaku was in its grasp. He had somehow managed to unsheathe his sword and now he drove it down like a spike into the beast's hand.

The hollow's roar was enough to shake the trees and buffet the water.

"Ikkaku!" Yumichika screamed, unheard over all the commotion. He began swimming towards the fray as the hollow plunged its fist and Ikkaku into the water and held him there. It was going to drown him.

"No! No!" Yumichika's progress through the water was swift, but he would not get there in time to do anything before Ikkaku succumbed. He tried to use the speed move, but he could not manage it in the water.

"Ruri'iro Kujaku!" he shouted. "I need you!"

Inside his head, he heard the reikon's voice. _"Master, what are you doing? Swim away! Get away from that thing! That's a hollow! If he sees you—"_

"Shut up!" Yumichika ordered "Get me over there!"

"Master, I don't—"

"Get me over there!"

Nothing happened.

"Damn it, Ruri'iro Kujaku! Get me to him or he's going to die! If he dies, I'll never forgive you! You'll be fucking alone, because I'll never forgive you!" It was the first time Yumichika had ever used such language, and he would use it again if he had to. If cursing and making threats was the only way to get Ruri'iro Kujkau to help him, then that was what he would do.

Several more seconds passed.

Yumichika could not believe his zanpakuto had abandoned him. "You bastard! I hate you! I hate—"

In a flash of light, the colors changed. Before Yumichika could even collect his thoughts, he was swept up out of the water and deposited on the far shore. Ruri'iro Kujaku stood before him, his halo burning like a bonfire.

"Use me," was all he said before vanishing back into his inner world.

There was not a second to lose. Yumichika drew his zanpakuto at the same time as using the speed movement to make one powerful step that landed him on the hollow's arm – the one holding Ikkaku under the surface.

He brought the weapon down with more force than he even knew he possessed, severing the hand from the arm and bringing a cry of agony and outrage from the hollow. A violent movement threw him into the water as the condemned soul spewed more of its poison, and the water grew hotter. Soon, it would start to boil.

Yumichika searched for Ikkaku and was about to dive below the surface when he saw, through the spray and choppy waves, a hand reach up from the darkening water. A moment later, Ikkaku's head broke through the surface. Right away, Yumichika could see that he was injured and flailing. Slipping his zanpakuto through his fundoshi, he swam over and caught Ikkaku just as he was about to go under again.

And now?

He was back in the water again and unable to do the speed move. It was a long way to the bank, and they would never make it swimming before the hollow killed them. And Ikkaku was in bad shape, gasping for air with lungs half-filled with water, blood pouring out of several wounds.

And then something caught Yumichika's eye. Something else was floating on the surface not more than ten meters away. A few seconds' scrutiny revealed the grotesque truth. It was the creature's severed hand being tossed about in the soupy mix. Disgusting or not, it floated; and that was all that mattered at the moment.

Yumichika swam over, and keeping a hold on Ikkaku, he climbed up and then pulled Ikkaku up after him.

"Ikkaku? Ikkaku!" He straddled his back and pumped the water out of him a few times until the danger in the river reclaimed his attention. "Ikkaku! You have to hold on!" He meant this literally and even closed his own hand briefly over Ikkaku's to emphasis the need to stay put on the gory raft. "It's going to get rough."

Ikkaku looked up at him with an awkward, sideways glance. "Yu—Yumichika . . . "

"Just hold on," Yumichika said. "I'll be back." As he leapt off, an unspoken, _"I hope",_ rose unbidden in his thoughts.

His first order of business was to try and lure the hollow further upstream. If they fought here, Ikkaku's raft might be overturned, or the hollow might turn the water into a scalding cauldron, again endangering Ikkaku's life. The only problem was there were no outcroppings, no sandbars, nothing for him to land on in the river – either upstream or downstream. The banks were too far away to be effective. And so the speed move was once again not possible.

The other option was to keep the hollow occupied long enough to allow Ikkaku to float far enough downstream to be out of danger. Yumichika knew of only one way. It was repulsive, and he didn't even know if it would work—he had never had the opportunity to try it out on a hollow—but if a hollow were a corrupted human soul, then it was possible that there might be something inside this creature that could still be reached on a carnal level.

Given what had happened the last time he'd let loose with his seductive powers, the fear of using them now rivaled the fear he felt for the enemy he was facing. He landed on the point of the hollow's head, immediately pressing his hands into the scaly flesh in search of a fast grip, and focusing his concentration.

An initial burst of outrage from the creature turned quickly into hungry greed. Yumichika shuddered. He could actually sense some remainder of the soul that this hollow had once been, and it was not pleasant. Avarice. An absorption with worldly goods. An abiding sense of superiority and elitism. A soul who had believed himself too good for death.

And now he lived in the river. His river. No one would cross. Not here, at least. Of all the things he'd once possessed in the world, now he could claim only this.

The hollow reached up one its five remaining hands and took hold of Yumichika, pulling him violently loose from his purchase, and bringing him down to look at him. One glance into Yumichika's eyes, and the creature was riveted.

Yumichika had kept his arms free, Ruri'iro Kujaku still gripped tightly in his right hand. He spared a quick glance over his shoulder to see Ikkaku floating slowly away. Another minute or two . . .

_"Master, what are you doing?"_

Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice disturbed his concentration for only an instant. _"Not now," _Yumichika warned, incredulous that the reikon would pick this moment to question his actions.

_"This is crazy! Just release me and kill him!"_

Yumichika could not afford the distraction. He blocked the zanpakuto.

Down on the river, Ikkaku had coughed up most of the water. His lungs burned, and his entire body ached. He knew Yumichika had put him here, but now where was Yumichika? He struggled into a sitting position and turned to look back upstream. What he saw plunged him right back into the water. Yumichika in that creature's hand meant Yumichika was in trouble.

But so was Ikkaku. His zeal had been genuine enough, but his body knew better than he did when it had reached its limit. And not only that . . .

His sword was gone.

He must have lost it in the water, and who knew where it was now? He'd never find it.

No breath, no strength, no sword. What good was he going to be in this fight?

He managed only a few strokes before realizing he would drown before ever getting close enough to be any help. Maybe, at least if he returned to the raft, he could cause a commotion and draw the hollow's attention long enough for Yumichika to attempt an escape.

But it was too late.

Yumichika had already seen Ikkaku floundering again in the water, and that was all he needed to decide that it was time to take action. Ikkaku might not be as far away as Yumichika would have liked, but it would have to do. Ikkaku would not survive a waiting game in the water.

Yumichika drew in half a dozen anxious breaths. He was going to do it. He was really going to do it.

He extended his sword arm.

"Saki . . . saki . . . "

His seductive intensity now abandoned for use of his zanpakuto, he discovered that the hollow had quickly recovered from its fascination. The hand around him tightened, and he cried out as the breath was forced from his lungs.

_"Master, use me! Use me! You're going to die! Use me!" _

Hearing Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice in his mind meant that the reikon had broken past the barriers placed on him; and of all the emotions Yumichika could have felt at that moment, oddly enough, the one that pushed him to act was anger. Anger at the power of a being who called him master, but who was a servant only by his own will. Anger at his own impotence on any level other than seduction. Anger that, no matter how strong he became, Ruri'iro Kujaku would always be stronger.

"Sake! Fuji Kujaku!"

The blade on his katana obediently took on the familiar scythe shape and separated into four blades. But no further. No vines came forth. Yumichika had been counting on this very thing;and now, he brought ithe blades down across the hollow's forearm, scoring four deep gouges. The hollow released him immediately; and as Yumichika fell towards the water, the hollow grasped at him with its other hands, missing each attempt. Yumichika plunged into the churn below, and as he sank with the force of his fall, he lashed out with his sword, ripping lines into the flesh of the hollow's leg.

He anticipated the same attack Ikkaku had fallen victim to, and when the creature reached into the water to grab him, he neatly sliced off the fingers. While still under the water, he assailed the hollow again with two more slices towards the groin area.

The hollow bellowed and fumed and beat its chest with its remaining arms. Then it swept a powerful hand through the water, sending Yumichika upstream in a tidal wave of water, sediment, and the mud and rock of the riverbed.

Yumichika was tossed head over heels, finally crashing head-first into the water at least three hundred meters away, close to the east bank. He came to the surface gasping for air and struggling blindly towards the shore, Ruri'iro Kujaku still clutched firmly in his hand in a partial release state. His foot touched something hard and rocky. It was part of a long, broken line of submerged rock, but it was too riddled with cracks and ankle catchers for him to walk on. He continued swimming but then something prodded him in the side below the waist. His hand went down and came into contact with a smooth, rounded surface. A tree limb. Blinking the water out of his eyes, he turned just in time to see a dead tree, mostly rotted but still solid enough, rear up out of the water. The piece of driftwood had been carried along in the hollow's wave, and now it had caught in a crevice below the surface and was being forced up by the swirling flow of the water.

Yumichika tried to scramble around it, but the force of the water pushed him into the tangle of branches. He heard something crack, and one entire side of the tree collapsed across the water, trapping his legs between the rock and the tree. He began struggling to get loose, but he was pinned fast. He looked up to see the hollow approaching. His struggles grew more frantic.

The hollow's movement sent high waves in Yumichika's direction, sweeping over his head, and grinding the tree against him. He was barely able to draw breath between one wave's subsiding the next one's coming. After the fourth wave passed, when it had cleared, Yumichika raised his eyes to see the creature reaching down for him.

Yumichika had never had tremendous strength, but at that moment, his adrenaline was pumping, his reiatsu flared, and his physical strength burgeoned to something even Ikkaku would have been proud of. He raised the zanpakuto over his head and brought it thundering down with both hands onto the part of the trunk, at least half a meter thick, holding him in place.

It split in half, and Yumichika pulled free. He raised the weapon again and sliced across the hollow's arm, buying himself enough time to use the tree as a spring board. He leapt up to drive all four blades into the beast's face, taking out one eye.

The hollow screeched as it clawed at its injured face. It staggered for a moment, lost its footing, and then went careening into the river, sending up another flood of raging water, this time downstream. Yumichika, leaping down, got caught in the wave and was once again carried along, tumbled and pummeled and beaten.

Ikkaku , having returned to the raft, saw the hollow fall into the water. He saw the tidal wave coming, and he saw Yumichika disappear into the water.

And there was nothing he could do.

In seconds, the wave swamped his morbid flotation, and he was swept away down the river.

* * *

><p>"Master? Master?"<p>

Yumichika drew in a breath that culminated in a fit of soggy coughing. He felt a warmth in his chest; then as the pain began to subside, he opened his eyes onto altered colors. Ruri'iro Kujaku was leaning over him. It was his hand resting on Yumichika's chest, imparting his healing touch.

"Ruri'iro Kujaku," Yumichika choked out. He sat up slowly, rubbed his head, and drew in several slow, deep breaths until his mind suddenly cleared, and he jumped to his feet desperately. "Where's Ikkaku?"

Ruri'iro Kujaku motioned with his head down the river.

Yumichika's eyes grew wide in horror.

On a sandy reed bed along the bank not far from where Yumichika now stood, Ikkaku lay face-down and unmoving.

"I-Ikkaku . . . " He could barely say the word, then it exploded from his lips as he started slogging along the bank towards him. "Ikkaku!"

He dropped to his knees and once again pressed the water out of Ikkaku's lungs. But this time, Ikkaku did not wake up. Yumichika rolled him onto his back and checked to see if he was still breathing.

He was.

But that wasn't all. A deep bruise was forming around a patch of crushed skin on the side of his head above the left ear. His left shoulder was clearly dislocated. And a deep gash cut him open from hip to ankle.

Yumichika began tearing strips from Ikkaku's tattered and bloody kosode to use as bandages, but there was too much blood. He would not be able to stop the bleeding. He worked feverishly, but to no avail.

In desperation, he called out, "Ruri'iro Kujaku!"

The colors changed once again as the zanpakuto materialized before him.

Yumichika looked up at him with eyes emblazoned with fear. "Help me!" he pleaded.

Ruri'iro Kujaku stood still, his aura radiating something cold and close to callousness. "What should I do?"

"You—you have to heal him," Yumichika said. "Nothing I do helps. Please, Ruri'iro Kujaku, please!"

"Don't you mean, _Fuji_ Kujaku?" the reikon bridled, making no move to assist.

Yumichika could not believe his ears. Was Ruri'iro Kujaku going to make something of this right now? Yumichika had no time for such self-centered foolishness, and neither did Ikkaku.

"That doesn't matter right now!" he chastised. "I need your help!"

It was then that he noticed Ruri'iro Kujaku was holding two items in his hands. One was Yumichika's kimono, ripped from his body during the fight. Yumichika hadn't even noticed his own nakedness, having lost even the fundoshi somewhere along the line.

The other item was . . . Ikkaku's sword.

Ruri'iro Kujaku had somehow managed to salvage the weapon.

And it gave Yumichika an idea.

"If he dies, so does his zanpakuto!" he blurted out. "Isn't that what you told me? If I die, so do you! So, if Ikkaku dies, so will his sword!"

Ruri'iro Kujaku was stunned. His master was speaking the truth.

In the peacock's anger over what his master had just done to him and his gleaning of an opportunity to put the whole miserable situation to rest through Madarame's death, he'd not stopped to consider the obvious.

Ikkaku's demise meant Hoozukimaru's demise.

He felt as if he'd been hoodwinked, even though he knew that was not the case. The situation had been forced upon him, and now he had to make a choice. His anger was joined by a sad resignation. He did not want to lose Hoozukimaru so soon after meeting him. He did not want to lose Yumichika, despite the hurt he had just suffered at his hands.

"They'll both die!" Yumichika was still pressing anxiously. "Is that what you want?"

"I don't know what I can do," Ruri'iro Kujaku stated. It was an honest answer.

"You can heal him . . . like you healed me," Yumichika replied.

In egotistical fashion, the idea had never even crossed Ruri'iro Kujaku's mind. "I—I don't know if I can do that. My spirit energy is . . . it belongs to you, no one else."

"But you can try," Yumichika insisted, his voice dropping to an agonized plea just above a whisper. "He'll die otherwise. It's worth trying."

"But I—what if I end up killing him? Or—or—he doesn't want my reiatsu! He hates everything kido—"

"Kimi, please!"

The kujaku hesitated, more uncertain now than he'd ever been. He could try to save Madarame. He might even succeed. If he didn't try, he would most certainly lose his master.

"Very well. I'll try." He began to recede into his world, leaving Ikkaku's sword and Yumichika's kimono behind. "Release me."

Yumichika had expected Ruri'iro Kujaku to heal Ikkaku in the same way he had healed him on many occasions – through the laying on of his hands. And so, he was hesitant about following Ruri'iro Kujaku's instructions, but his desperation won out. He stood up, drew his zanpakuto and spoke the words.

"Sakikurue, Ruri'iro Kujaku."

This time, instead of the vines springing into life like wild, uncontrollable animals, they opened into delicate, filmy strips, like woven gossamer threads, glowing blue and waving gently in Yumichika's hand.

Now, he only had to direct them; and a simple thought was sufficient to do so.

As they stretched out to wrap around and envelop parts of Ikkaku's body, Yumichika suddenly felt a jolt of panic. What if Ruri'iro Kujaku had fooled him? What if—what if he were about to drain the remains of Ikkaku's spirit energy? He almost pulled back, but then the vines began to pulsate quietly, as if dancing to their own soundless music.

Yumichika could see the bruises fade before his eyes. He saw the bleeding slow and then stop. He heard the sound of labored breathing grow easier and clearer, and watched as the shoulder slid back into place. It was amazing, and he very nearly lost himself in the wonder of what he was observing. But when he saw Ikkaku's arm move slightly, he quickly recollected himself. He could not let Ikkaku see what was healing him.

"Return, Ruri'iro Kujaku," he ordered.

The zanpakuto obeyed him.

Yumichika knelt down beside Ikkaku and prodded him back to wakefulness.

Ikkaku's first words, upon opening his eyes and seeing Yumichika looking down at him, were typical. "What happened to you?"

Yumichika smiled. Tears of relief welled in his eyes, but he did not let them fall.

Ikkaku went on. "You look like crap."

The smile grew even broader. "That's the thanks I get for saving your life."

"You didn't save my life," Ikkaku grumbled, struggling to sit up, then hacking and coughing once he was upright.

"Yes, I did," Yumichika replied.

Ikkaku eyed him sideways. "Yeah, you did," he admitted. He paused and a shrewd look came into his eye. "And I know what I saw. You've got a lot of explaining to do."

Yumichika brushed this aside. "Later. Right now, we need to get away from the river. I didn't kill it. I just injured it, and it will probably come back after us even angrier than it was before. Come on, can you stand?" He reached out a hand.

"Are you going to go naked from now on?" Ikkaku asked.

Yumichika blushed, retrieved his kimono, now stained and torn, and got dressed. He also picked up Ikkaku's sword.

"This belongs to you," he said.

A surprised expression of gratitude crossed Ikkaku's face. "My sword. I thought—I thought I lost it in the river."

"Well, here it is – but why don't I carry it for now?"

"I can carry my own sword."

"Suit yourself."

Yumichika handed over the weapon and helped Ikkaku to his feet. They began walking, heading away from the river. They were on the east side, the same side from which they had come, although considerably downstream. They moved away from the water on a perpendicular course, trying to put as much distance between them and the hollow as possible before night fell.

But Ikkaku could not stay on his feet until dark. Or even until dusk. Even with Yumichika's arm about his waist, he was exhausted and in need of rest. About three hours after they had set out, he could go no further. They took shelter in a bamboo copse, oddly out of place in the deciduous wood through which they were passing, but the ground there was clear and it was as good a place as any.

No sooner was Ikkaku down than he was out.

_"Thank goodness,"_ Yumichika said to himself, sitting down and flopping back against a small clump of rocks. Now that they had moved out of harm's way and Ikkaku was in no longer in danger for his life, Yumichika's mind was racing with all the events of the day. He had a lot of things to consider – the most important of which was Ruri'iro Kujaku's behavior. Not just what had happened at the river, but for the past month.

From the moment they'd left the thicket, the zanpkauto's main concern had seemed to be re-establishing communication with Ikkaku's presumed zanpakuto. While this distraction kept him from chasing after his master's attention, it also had the unforeseen effect of making him considerably less responsive to his master's authority. Not once – _not onc_e since leaving the thicket had Ruri'iro Kujaku answered his master's voice on the first summons. Whether it was Yumichika simply calling to him for conversation or actually entering the inner world, Ruri'iro Kujaku seemed to have lost his zeal for his master's company. On top of that had been the kujaku's frustration that he had not been able to find the means to communicate again with other being. This had made the reikon surly and moody. Even his master's presence had seemed to do little to abate Ruri'iro's growing impatience.

None of which sat well with Yumichika.

It was bound to come to a head, and there on the river it had.

On the river, the kujaku had been grudgingly obedient and clearly under duress – hesitant, obstinate, and dangerously jealous.

Yumichika was not going to tolerate it.

Not surprisingly, upon entering his inner world, Yumichika found the maroon room once again empty.

"Ruri'iro Kujaku," Yumichika summoned. He waited half a minute with no response. "Ruri'iro Kujkau!" This time his call was more forceful. And still the reikon did not appear. Now, Yumichika was one stop short of furious. He'd had enough of being second fiddle in his own inner world.

He took off for the one place he knew he would find his zanpakuto: the shrine.

Coming to the shrine's entrance, he paused to collect himself. He did not want to burst in angrily and cause a scene. He needed to establish who was in control. He took a deep breath, straightened his battered kimono, and stepped inside. Right away, he saw Ruri'iro Kujaku kneeling in the center of the flower mosaic in the altar's place. The fact that the reikon made no move at all upon his master's arrival told Yumichika that he was so deep into whatever he was doing that even the immediate presence of his master could not pull him away.

Before disrupting him, Yumichika went to the shrine windows and looked outside. He saw no mirrors at all. No other beings or images. Only the vines rotating silently.

He returned to the reikon.

"Ruri'iro Kujaku." He clenched his fists. "Ruri'iro Kujaku!"

At last, Ruri'iro Kujaku looked up, as if emerging from a dream. "Master. I didn't know you had come." His voice was distant, restrained.

"Yes, well, that seems to be happening a lot lately," Yumichika groused.

Ruri'iro crossed his arms. "A lot? It only happens when you come to see me, which is rarely."

Yumichika could not argue with that, but the truth of the statement only added to his annoyance. His zanpakuto dared to complain about something so minor after what had just happened at the river?

"I don't want to talk about that," he said.

"No? Then what do you want to talk about?" the reikon volleyed. "Do you want to talk about how much you hate me? Do you want to talk about that hideous name you called me? Do you want to talk about using my power to heal Madarame? What is it you want to talk about, master?"

"I want to talk about what happened on the river," Yumichika replied, maintaining his calm in the face of Ruri'iro's taunt.

"I'm listening."

"I asked you to help me, and you wouldn't do it until I threatened you," Yumichika told him.

"What are you talking about? When did I refuse to help you?" Ruri'iro demanded.

"When that hollow was drowning Ikkaku—"

"I did help you. Why wouldn't I? Do you honestly believe that I would refuse to do as you ask, simply because Madarame is involved?" Ruri'iro challenged, keeping his voice both aloof and mocking.

"Yes!" Yumichika cried. "Because you're the most jealous, childish, spoiled brat in all of Soul Society!" He waved his arms about the room. "Like this! Like right now! Ikkaku almost died! I almost died! But here you are, trying to make contact with something that may not even exist, as if that's more important than anything else! You—you—you made sure to find that sword after the battle, but then you didn't want to save Ikkaku! And for all you know—for all you know—I think you just imagined the whole thing! There is no zanpakuto! There's only you and your insane jealousy!"

"I didn't imagine it!" Ruri'iro defended.

"Then why haven't you been able to communicate with him again?" Yumichika challenged.

Ruri'iro, abandoning his calm, ignored the question and threw out his own accusations. "You don't want to believe he exists! You don't want anything to come between you and Madarame! Well, Madarame's come between me and you! You haven't done anything to encourage Madarame to bring forth his zanpakuto! You don't want him to have a zanpakuto!" He turned away angrily.

"That's the most idiotic thing you've ever said," Yumichika churned. "And besides, this isn't about whether or not Ikkaku has a zanpakuto—"

"You're right," Ruri'iro cut him off. His colors were very nearly crimson. "It's about you being so stupid that you'd risk your life just to keep me hidden!"

"I had no choice—"

"No choice? You could have released me!"

"No, I couldn't! You know that!" Yumichika shouted.

"So, you would die and let Madarame die just to keep him from finding out about me?" Ruri'iro exploded incredulously. "That makes absolutely no sense—"

"You were willing to let him die—"

"How can you say that? I saved him! I saved you!" Ruri'iro leaned forward, pointing a blazing finger at Yumichika's face. "You asked me to help you, but you hadn't released me! I was still in sword form, and you weren't using me! I didn't know what to do! I can't release myself!" He drew in a breath shaking with emotion. "You wanted me to get you into the fight, but you wouldn't release me! So I did the only thing I could! You didn't tell me to come out! I came out on my own, and I'm surprised you're not yelling at me for that, too! I took you to the shore instead of dropping you straight into the fight, so you could think about how you were going to attack, what you were going to do! Master, that was a hollow you were up against, not some roadway bandit! You could have been killed!" He paused, and his arm dropped back to his side. His voice quieted in a sad lament. "Then when you did finally release me . . . you . . . you called me by that detestable name. Why? Why would you do that?"

Yumichika sighed audibly and rubbed his hands over his face. "Why don't you understand?"

Ruri'iro Kujaku turned away. "I do understand. I understand perfectly well. You don't want me – not as I am. You don't trust me anymore. You don't believe me when I tell you Madarame has a zanpakuto. You don't—you don't—" He could not go on.

Yumichika frowned. "Ruri'iro Kujaku, face me."

Ruri'iro hesitated several seconds before facing his master, crossing his arms and making it clear in his stance that there was little he wanted to hear.

This was going to take some careful phrasing. "I do want you," Yumichika began. "But I'm still not ready to show you to Ikkaku. I'm not willing to risk it. You're going to have to accept that." He paused. "I called you by that name because I . . . I didn't want you to release fully. Knowing how you are, I—I adapted the release command, hoping you'd only do a partial release. And it worked. You get so angry at that name that you won't release fully. But that's what I wanted. You gave me a more powerful physical weapon, and I didn't have to use kido."

Ruri'iro Kujaku was horrified. "You—you've thought all this out, haven't you?"

"It's something that I slowly realized over all the years," Yumichika replied. "You can't disobey me when I say the release command."

"So you found a way to force me to release only to the degree that you want," Ruri'rio spat back.

"No, no. It was your own stubbornness that stopped you from releasing fully," Yumichika countered. "What difference should it make to you whether I call you Ruri'iro or Fuji? What difference should it make if I say sake or sakikurue? You're the one being temperamental and refusing to give me the fullness of your power."

"Because you don't want the fullness of my power!" Ruri'iro charged. "Not in front of Madarame! You—you—you know I can't go against my nature. I can't release the vines at the sound of that—that hideous name! I am a kido-based zanpakuto! And _you're_ going to have to accept that!"

"Ruri'iro—"

"And if Madarame's hatred of kido makes you hide me, then what would he do if he found out that you, yourself, are a kido-based soul?"

"I'll deal with that when the time comes," Yumichika answered calmly. "But right now, I'm talking about you." He paused and gathered his conviction. "I want you to stop spending so much time here in the shrine—"

"You mean, you want me to stop trying to contact Madarame's zanpakuto," Ruri'iro huffed.

Yumichika nodded. "Yes."

"I knew it would come to this." Ruri'iro Kujaku headed for the doorway.

Yumichika followed, stopping him with a hand on his arm. "Ruri'iro Kujaku, listen to me. It could be possible that Ikkaku has a zanpakuto—"

"You said I imagined it," Ruri'iro snapped.

"That wasn't the best choice of words. Look, I believe that you communicated with something, though I'm not convinced it was a zanpakuto." A pause. "But even if everything you're saying is right, you're talking as if Ikkaku having a zanpakuto is going to solve everything. And it's not."

"It would be one less reason for you to keep me hidden," Ruri'iro Kujaku replied, "One less reason to risk your life like you did today."

Yumichika stared at him without speaking for a moment, contemplating what he would say in reply.

Ruri'iro, however, filled the silence with an impassioned cry. "I hate being hidden! Look at me!" He spread his arms like wings, looking down at his own body. "I wasn't created to be hidden from sight! I want to be seen! I want others to look at me and . . . and be dazzled by what they see! I want to show my power! I want you to use me and be proud! I want all of Soul Society to see me, to see what I can do! I want to feel as if . . . I want . . . " His voice broke and he fell silent.

Yumichika was stunned by this outburst. He'd known Ruri'iro Kujaku's love of his own appearance; the kujaku was precisely like his master in that respect. What he hadn't known was just how much hurt his zanpakuto had endured being kept from sight and prevented from receiving the sort of attention he craved.

"I thought mine was all the attention you needed," Yumichika said quietly. It was the truth. He'd honestly believed that he'd been the center of Ruri'iro Kujaku's world, and that his presence had been enough.

Ruri'iro regarded him without speaking. The shifting aura said it all.

Yumichika was stunned. "Am I no longer sufficient for your happiness?"

Ruri'iro Kujaku began haltingly. "You would be if . . . " Here was his chance. He could make his need clear. It was a risk, but he was going to take it. He needed an answer. " . . . if you loved me."

If this statement did not lead his master to proclaim his love for him, then it could only be because there was no love to be proclaimed. Ruri'iro had presented a blatant invitation for his master to assure him of the most crucial emotion.

Yumichika was silent for a long time before replying, "Love doesn't fix everything."

As an answer, it was devastating.

Ruri'iro Kujaku made a sound of anguish and pulled away.

"Ruri'iro Kujaku!" Yumichika called out, going after him.

"Go away!" Ruri'iro ordered. "Just . . . leave me!"

"Kimi—"

"You don't really want to be here, so just go!"

"Ruri'iro Kujaku—"

But the kujaku was not interested in hearing anything. He had suffered the most hurtful of wounds, and the pain was so agonizing, he was beginning to wish it had been a mortal injury. His voice betrayed the tears his master could not see behind the swirling light. "It's never going to happen. Why did I ever think it was possible?"

Hearing him, Yumichika thought he was referring to being revealed. It never entered his mind that his zanpakuto would feel unloved.

And as long as that truth eluded him, he would never be able to take the proper and necessary actions to restore a deteriorating relationship.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29 The Storm and the Flood

_Flow to the sea.  
><em>_You know where to go.  
><em>_But still we are free.  
><em>_No one tells the wind which way to blow._

_Dawning is the Day  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p>Ikkaku was awake long before he opened his eyes.<p>

He was still in pain, but it was not severe. Considering how badly he'd felt earlier, he was surprised that he was not worse off. He was prone to believe that his own state of physical excellence that had allowed him to recover so quickly; but this time he wasn't so sure.

After what he had seen on the river, he had to consider there were other possibilities.

But no matter the reason, one indisputable fact pounded at his battered senses.

Yumichika had saved his life.

Yumichika!

Delicate, non-violent Yumichika.

And he'd done it like a man – with brute force. And with a weapon that had seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

Against a hollow.

Ikkaku would have felt humiliated were he not so fascinated.

He had many questions, and now he wanted answers.

He opened his eyes. It was dark out, but Yumichika had managed to make a fire. Its heat was enough to keep Ikkaku warm in his scant, torn kosode; but it took him only a moment to realize that it wasn't just the fire keeping him warm.

He turned his head away from the heat.

Yumichika was lying beside him, close but not pressing, regarding him with a gentle expression.

"You couldn't clean yourself up while I was sleeping?" Ikkaku said, half serious and half joking.

Yumichika smiled. "I haven't had time. Am I that revolting?"

"Just a little." Ikkaku groaned as he rolled onto his side to face him.

"Don't hurt yourself," Yumichika cautioned.

"Too late," Ikkaku replied. He stared into Yumichika's eyes for several seconds, as if he might see something there that would explain everything that had happened. "You okay?"

Yumichika nodded. "I got a little banged up, but I'm fine."

It was only a partial truth. While physically he had come through events fairly well, the aftermath had been disastrous for him mentally and emotionally. His meeting with Ruri'iro Kujaku had been painful and dispiriting; and now he found himself in the unlikely position of looking to Ikkaku and hoping for something less contentious than what he'd been through with his zanpakuto. It was a complete reversal of what he'd usually done – retreating to Ruri'iro Kujaku when dealing with Ikkaku became too difficult.

"You ready to tell me what happened?" Ikkaku asked pointedly.

"What do you mean?"

"I saw the weapon you were using," Ikkaku replied. "It wasn't your sword. "

Yumichika was not sure how to answer. He'd certainly had time to think about how to address the matter, but instead he'd been so distressed over Ruri'iro Kujaku that he'd thought of nothing else since.

"Yumichika?" Ikkaku's voice recalled his attention.

"You won't believe me," Yumichika sighed.

"Maybe not, but let's hear it."

Yumichika took a deep breath. He could take his first step towards making amends with Ruri'iro Kujaku. It might be a small step, but it would be a beginning; and Yumichika needed to start somewhere.

After a long hesitation, he replied, "He's my zanpakuto."

"Your . . . zanpakuto?"

"Yes."

"You're telling me you have a zanpakuto."

"Yes."

"That—that . . . that's impossible."

"You saw it with your own eyes," Yumichika replied. "I can show you again, if you don't believe me."

"But . . . how would—why would you have a zanpakuto?" Ikkaku was incredulous.

"I don't know," Yumichika answered, sitting up. "I just do."

Ikkaku could now see past him to where the sword lay on the ground at his side.

"Is that—is that it?"

"His name is Fuji Kujaku." How easily that lie had rolled off his tongue. He reached over and picked up the weapon. Another long pause as he gathered his courage. "All this time that you've wondered who trained me, who healed me . . . it wasn't a hollow. It was him."

This was too much for Ikkaku to get his head around. He got to his feet in agitation, finding himself still shaky after the ordeal in the river. But any unsteadiness was minor compared to the disbelief and bewilderment he was feeling.

Yumichika had a zanpakuto . . .

No, it was absolutely impossible. A soul as passive and docile as Yumichika could not bring forth a zanpakuto. And the thing Yumichika had been carrying at his waist all these years had come from a passing vendor! There was no way it could be a zanpakuto!

Try as he might, Ikkaku could not convince himself of his words. He'd been so married to the idea of Yumichika's odd powers emanating from a hollow that he was not ready or willing to abandon the idea. Not without a fight, at least.

"Show me," he demanded in a voice much more restrained than his swirling emotions.

Yumichika stood up and drew the sword from its scabbard. He held it out at arm's length.

"Sake, Fuji Kujaku."

A flash of light accompanied the splitting of the blade, and then Ikkaku found himself staring in astonishment.

"That's it . . . that's what I saw on the river," he said in a near-whisper. He took an unconscious couple steps forward, reaching out his hand to touch it, but then drawing back, feeling both a sense of his own revulsion towards the weapon and a peculiar impression of aversion directed back at him.

"He's very temperamental," Yumichika explained, adding after several seconds. "And possessive."

"Possessive?"

"He likes to have me all to himself," Yumichika replied. "He's been that way since the beginning."

"When—when was the beginning?" Ikkaku asked.

A small glint of nostalgic fondness came into Yumichika's expression. "It's funny. I first heard his voice the night after I met you."

"The night after . . . you mean back in Mito?" Ikkaku was perplexed. "But . . . you didn't have that sword until Venla. Damn, Yumichika, you wouldn't even touch a sword the whole time we were in Mito."

"That's true," Yumichika agreed. "I didn't have a sword, and I didn't want one. But that night, I heard his voice for the first time. I didn't know who he was. I didn't know what he was, and I was a little scared. Don't you remember that morning? I was withdrawn, and you got angry with me."

"I remember."

"Well, Fuji Kujaku told me later that something about your arrival is what had prompted me to awaken him." He looked at the fan of blades in his hand. "Return, Fuji Kujaku." The sword assumed its original shape. "But at that point, he was only a voice inside me. I learned to enter my inner world, and finally one day, he took on a spirit form. I could actually see him." He paused. Speaking of Ruri'iro Kujaku in such a way had the effect of making Yumichika realize just how much affection he had for his zanpakuto. "He's the one who healed me. You remember when all those bruises vanished, and you wanted to know how it happened? It was him." He swallowed down a hurtful memory. "He's also the one who saved my life after the attack. I wanted to die. I was ready to give in, but he wouldn't let me. He used his own power to save me, and he almost died doing it."

Ikkaku listened in rapt attention, growing more astounded with each word. When Yumichika paused in his explanation, he asked, "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you keep it a secret?"

"Because I wasn't sure how you'd feel," Yumichika replied. "I was afraid you'd be jealous, and it would ruin our friendship. And Fuji Kujaku is so unpredictable, I was afraid to use him in front of you."

Ikkaku was thoughtful for a long time. "It does make me jealous," he admitted at last, turning towards the fire, his face glowing orange in the glow of the embers. "Who would have thought that little, demur Yumichika Ayasegawa would secretly be the master of a zanpakuto all this time?" He drew in a deep breath and blew it out forcefully. "But after what I saw today, how can I not believe you? You defeated a hollow. And you did it with that weapon you're holding." He looked back at him. "You're powerful, Yumichika. All that time I devoted to protecting you, you never really needed me at all, did you?"

"Of course, I did," Yumichika protested. "There was never a time when I didn't need you – including right now." At Ikkaku's doubtful look, he elaborated. "It's taken me years to learn how to use Fuji Kujaku, and even now, I still don't know what I'm doing half the time. He's not easy to control, and like I said, he—he has a mind of his own."

"You seemed to have control of him against that hollow," Ikkaku pointed out.

If only Ikkaku knew the other side of the story: the side Yumichika could not divulge.

"It may have seemed that way; but believe me, left to his own decisions, he would have done things very differently, and probably more effectively," Yumichika replied.

"Looked pretty effective to me," Ikkaku stated. "So, was it also him who killed those four men at the quarry?"

This was going to require some finesse. "Yes," Yumichika replied, awaiting the next question.

"But those men didn't have a single mark on them. There wasn't a drop of blood," Ikkaku said. "Down on the river, there was blood everywhere – from your weapon."

Here was the test of Yumichika's ability to deceive, for he was not going to divulge Ruri'iro Kujaku's true power of draining an opponent's spirit energy. Ikkaku was handling the revelation of the zanpakuto well enough. But to expose the kido nature of that zanpakuto would be pushing too far. "You—you remember what I did to you in Guckoo the night I found you?"

A cold neutrality etched its way across Ikkaku's face. "Yes," he replied with the heaviness of a stone.

"If my reiatsu was strong enough to do that to you, you can imagine how strong Fuji Kujaku's reiatsu is," Yumichika said. "He doesn't have to fight in his physical form as a sword. He can just unleash his reiatsu and crush the enemy."

Ikkaku stared speechless for a moment, then asked, "So, he killed those men just with his spirit energy."

Yumichika nodded.

"Why didn't he do that against the hollow?" Ikkaku asked.

"I don't know," Yumichika replied, preparing another lie. "Maybe because it's more difficult against a hollow. Maybe he just wanted to fight. Like I said, he's very unpredictable and moody. Right now, he won't even talk to me, he's so angry at me."

"Why's he angry?"

Yumichika was dismissive. "I guess because I didn't do things the way he wanted. He's pretty spoiled." Inside, he felt horrible. What had started out as an earnest effort to ease Ruri'iro Kujaku's existence out into the open had degenerated into one lie after another. And although Yumichika was blocking his zanpakuto from seeing and hearing the conversation, he knew Ruri'iro Kujaku could circumvent those barriers without his knowledge. If the peacock found out what his master was saying right now, there would be hell to pay.

Ikkaku stared at Yumichika for a long, scrutinizing moment. At last, he asked in a serious voice, "Are you telling me the truth? Is that thing really a zanpakuto?"

"Yes, he is," Yumichika replied. "I'm sorry I kept him hidden from you."

"So am I," Ikkaku said. He settled down on the opposite side of the fire. This was a lot of information to take in – some of it shocking and distressing. He needed time to think about and absorb everything Yumichika had just told him. It was time to end the conversation for now, before he became too overwhelmed. "You get some sleep. I'll take watch."

Before lying back down, Yumichika asked, "So, now that you know about Fuji Kujaku, do you—will you still keep me with you?"

"I don't know. You sure as hell don't need me to protect you after what I saw today. I don't think you need anyone to protect you," Ikkaku grumbled.

"Ikkaku, I've never wanted to be around you for protection," Yumichika asserted. "I've stayed around because—"

"Don't say it, Yumichika," Ikkaku cut him off. "I know why you stay around. Just . . . let it go. Go to sleep. "

Yumichika closed his eyes onto troubled thoughts. But he had nowhere to turn. For certain, he could not go to Ruri'iro Kujaku. Not until the flames had died down. Not until he figured out how to approach the injured bird.

Not until he knew what he was going in his own mind.

* * *

><p>How dull everything was. Not even here in the cave of the peacocks could he find anything to allay his sadness. He had lost his master. Could anything possibly ease his suffering after such a blow? Years of guiding, protecting, and chastening had come to nothing. All his longing could not breach the shame Yumichika felt towards him. All the love in the universe could not win him the place of pride in his master's heart.<p>

Ruri'iro Kujaku had never felt so miserable. Yumichika had blocked him ever since their last meeting, and it was only the kujaku's bout with hopelessness that kept him from overpowering his master's defenses. Flexing his ability seemed pointless now. If Yumichika did not want him present in his thoughts, so be it. If he did not want him having access to the outside world anymore . . .

The reikon sighed. "So be it."

He could not even fool himself. Without the companionship of his master, his existence had no meaning.

A few hours ago, he'd been forced to release once again to the horrid name his master had now assigned to him. He wasn't sure why he'd been released. Yumichika hadn't used him for anything. And the flustered peacock had been too frayed to pay any attention to what had been going on. How he loathed that name, and the fact that his master had used it again – for no other purpose, it seemed, than to taunt him . . . why had things gone so badly?

"There you are, flashy."

Ruri'iro recognized the voice instantly. Looking up, he saw in one of the mirrors nearby, the image of Ikkaku's zanpakuto.

"Hoozukimaru," he said, feeling a sense of relief to be drawn out of such maudlin thoughts. He swept over to the mirror in one lackluster movement.

"Been a while," Hoozukimaru stated. "I thought you were going to come back sooner than this."

"I tried," Ruri'iro insisted. "I tried, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't figure it out. I don't even know how it's happening right now."

He saw Hoozukimaru staring at him perceptively, and it forced the red into his cheeks. He looked down. It was the first time he could ever recall feeling embarrassed.

"You look like something's bothering you," Hoozukimaru said bluntly. "What's wrong?"

Ruri'iro Kujaku sighed heavily and waited several seconds before answering. "My master."

"He piss you off?"

Ruri'iro Kujaku wasn't even sure what that meant. "Piss me off?"

"He made you mad? He did something stupid, and now you're pissed off."

"What an ugly expression—"

"Yeah, yeah. But am I right?"

The peacock frowned. "I'm not angry – well, maybe a little. I'm sad." A pause, then he admitted, "I'm more than sad. I'm—I'm devastated. We had a very bad fight."

"Is this cause of what your master told mine?"

A questioning look came into Ruri'iro face. "What did he tell him?"

"That you're possessive and spoiled," Hoozukimaru replied.

Ruri'iro was perplexed. "Are you—are you talking about what happened on the river? During the fight with the hollow?"

"No, although I have to admit, what little I saw of it was pretty damned impressive. Most of the time, my master was only half-conscious, so I didn't get to see much. But I did see your release. You know, I figured it would have been more kido—"

"That wasn't my full release," Ruri'iro Kujaku cut him off. "But when did my master tell Madarame that I was possessive and spoiled?"

"Just a little while ago . . . around the fire." Hoozukimaru could tell from the expression on the kujaku's face that he'd hit on something. "You—you didn't know?"

"My master's been blocking me," Ruri'iro replied. "I—there was a brief moment when he released me there at the fire, but I don't know why."

"You didn't happen to notice that my master was standing there?"

"I—I guess I was so angry, I didn't see," Ruri'iro Kujaku replied. "But that doesn't matter. Are you saying that my master told Madarame about me?"

"He told him you were a zanpakuto," Hoozukimaru replied, adding with a puzzled voice, "But he called you Fuji Kujaku. I thought your name was Ruri'iro Kujaku."

Ruri'iro Kujaku did not answer. He could not figure out what to make of what he'd just head. At last, he asked anxiously, "What else did he say?"

"He said you were hard to control and that you're mad at him right now." A pause. "Oh, and that you can crush other souls with your reiatsu."

"He didn't tell him that my power is kido-based?"

"Not that I heard."

Ruri'rio Kujaku considered. The fact his master had revealed his existence was good news, even if he'd withheld the entire truth. It was one step along the way. Maybe it meant his master had realized, after their last meeting, how unfair he'd been, how reckless with his own life.

Maybe all hope wasn't lost.

"What was Madarame's reaction?" he asked.

"A lot more than he showed, I'll tell you that," Hoozukimaru replied.

"What do you mean?"

"Hoo! My master is jealous, envious, bitter . . . take your pick. He considers himself a good fighter, so being rescued by your master was embarrassing enough; but when your master told him about _you_ . . . he actually felt insulted, as if he should be the one to have a zanpakuto. Funny, huh? Cause he does have one, but the idiot is too busy running and hiding from his past to even recognize my voice." He shook his head. "Anyway, he admitted he was jealous, but he kind of played it off. "

Ruri'iro Kujaku was still astonished. "I can't believe he told him."

"Why? That's the big deal?"

Ruri'iro looked into the small, close-set eyes. He could trust this being. "Your master hates kido, am I right?"

"Yeah. Hates everything about it. He thinks it's a cowardly way of fighting."

"And my power is kido—"

"What is your power, exactly? I mean, I can tell you're a kido-based zanpakuto, but what is your power?" Hoozukimaru asked curiously.

"I can drain others of their reiatsu," came the proud response.

The face in the mirror looked back with an expression of doubtful incredulity. "What?"

"I can drain others of their reiatsu," Ruri'iro Kujaku repeated, assuming an air of affected nonchalance.

"Other . . . souls?"

"I would imagine anything that has reiatsu would be vulnerable," Ruri'iro answered.

"So, living creatures?"

"Probably."

"Hollows?"

"Probably."

Hoozukimaru narrowed his eyes and changed the inflection of his voice. "Zanpakutos?"

Ruri'iro Kujaku shrugged. "I would think so."

"Whoo! That's a nasty ability, my friend," Hoozukimaru said appreciatively.

"Yes, well, at the rate my master is going, you'll never get to see it," the peacock pouted. "He's only used it twice, and neither time in front of Madarame. He _won't_ use it in front of him. He's afraid Madarame will be so disgusted that he won't want anything to do with him anymore."

"Well, he's probably right," Hoozukimaru confirmed. "My master does hate kido."

"What about you? Do you hate it?"

"Eh, it doesn't really interest me, 'cause it forms no part of my power. But I don't hate it."

"You don't think kido is a shameful way to fight?"

"Tsk! The only thing that's shameful is that your kido could probably defeat me outright without me even having a chance," Hoozukimaru replied.

This statement, whether accurate or not, pleased Ruri'iro Kujaku. "Maybe you could convince your master that it's an honorable way to fight."

"Ha! My master doesn't even know I exist! Right now, I couldn't even convince him to wash his face!"

Ruri'iro Kujaku laughed. How good it felt to smile after the pain of the last few hours. "Don't feel bad about that. I think the only one who could manage that kind of miracle is my master. Hygiene has never been at the top of Madarame's list." He cocked his head to one side. "So . . . if zanpakutos are born of their masters' souls, are you as slovenly as Madarame?"

"More so."

"Don't even joke about that!" Ruri'iro chastised. "If you can accept kido when Madarame can't, then you can keep yourself beautiful even though Madarame doesn't."

"Beautiful? Unh! What interest do I have in beauty? You're pretty enough for all creation to admire. I'll stick with my strengths," came the jaunty reply.

"And those are?"

"Sleeping. And when the time comes, fighting."

"Sleeping! How can sleeping be considered a strength!"

"Because I do it better than anyone else."

Ruri'iro Kujaku felt the spark of affection flare in his chest. His mind was overflowing with questions regarding his newest acquaintance. After a brief pause, he asked, "What does your world look like?"

"Hmmm . . . " In the mirror, Hoozukimaru looked around. "It's a jungle mostly. In the center is a volcano, and I have a lair underneath it." He looked up. "The sky is . . . the color of those vines I see in your world."

"You—there's a sky?"

"Yeah. It stretches as far as I can see. No limits. No boundaries. If I wander through the jungle, I never come to an end," Hoozukimaru replied.

"Are there—are there different landscapes or is it all jungle?"

"All jungle, far as I can tell. My master's a pretty simple guy."

"No limits . . . " Ruri'iro Kujaku whispered.

"Why? What's it like in your world?"

"Oh—there are many places, each one very different than the others." A grin. "You see, _my_ master is not simple. He's complicated. Too complicated, sometimes."

"So I've seen," Hoozukimaru interjected. "That's why I like him."

"You like my master?"

"I've said so."

Ruri'iro Kujaku was thoughtful. "Each place in my master's inner world has boundaries, even though they shift from time to time. I never thought about that until now. You said you have no boundaries in your world, but in mine, each aspect of my master's being only goes so far, and then comes the boundary, and I pass into some other part of him." A pause. "And the places where I can't go at all . . . the parts of him that he doesn't want to share with me . . . are there such places in your world?"

Hoozukimaru shrugged. "Maybe."

"Don't you wonder about it?"

"You think too much," Hoozukimaru criticized with a chuckle.

"Now, you really sound like Madarame," Ruri'iro accused playfully. He sat back on his heels and drew the mirror down to his level. "So, tell me more about your world."

* * *

><p>Yumichika sat up at the sound of thunder. It seemed the storm he had seen earlier that day on river had slowly followed him and Ikkaku downstream and was not far from breaking over their heads. The bamboo copse was not going to provide any substantive means of shelter.<p>

He looked across the fading embers to where Ikkaku was supposed to be keeping watch.

He was sleeping.

"Ikkaku?"

Ikkaku continued right on sleeping, his snoring loud enough to rival the thunder.

Yumichika came around the fire and nudged him. "Ikkaku! Wake up. It's going to storm."

A long, irritated groan replaced the snoring, but still Ikkaku made no move to get up or even acknowledge that he'd heard what Yumichika had said.

"Come on, Ikkaku," Yumichika persisted. "I don't want to get caught out in this one. It sounds like a lot of thunder, which means a lot of lightning. It's going to be dangerous."

Ikkaku threw his arm over his eyes. "We're on low ground. We won't get hit."

"Ikk—"

"Besides, where would we go? We're safe here," Ikkaku grumbled. "And who cares if we get wet. We're already soaked and disgusting."

"We're practically dry!" Yumichika pointed out. "We've been sitting around the fire all night—"

"Yumichika, I'm tired and I'm sore, and I don't want to get up!" Ikkaku blurted out in exasperation. "If you want to go, go. I'm not stopping you."

"You really think I would leave without you? After all the unpleasantness you've put me through," Yumichika simpered.

Ikkaku actually cracked a half-asleep smile. "You want to stay with me _because_ I've been unpleasant? I didn't realize you were a masochist."

"I must be for wanting to be with you," Yumichika snapped back. "Honestly, who else would put up with so much ungrateful whining?"

"Precisely," Ikkaku agreed.

Yumichika shook his head. "You have no idea what I put up with."

Ikkaku remained lying on his back. "Oh? What does the man with the zanpakuto have to worry about? You could probably just use that thing to crush the life out of me right now if I make you angry enough."

"Are you trying to make me angry?"

Ikkaku did not answer right away, but then he truthfully admitted, "No." He sat up slowly, rubbing his side gingerly. It felt like he had a couple broken ribs. Or maybe he was just stiff. "I guess I was thinking, the longer I lay here, the more time I have to think about what to do."

"What to do?"

Ikkaku looked up as a distant flash of lightening brought a split-second moment of light to their darkened world, now that the fire had burned low. "About you," he replied while stretching carefully. "Yumichika . . . you know the only reason I took you with me out of Guckoo was because I thought you needed my protection from a hollow. Now, I know there's no hollow. I know you have a zanpakuto, and I've seen you use it. You don't need my protection."

"I've already told you I don't stay with you because I need—"

Ikkaku waved him silent. "I know what you said, and I know you meant it." He drew his cheeks together in consternation. "And I'm not going to lie. There's a part of me that likes having you around."

"Then what's the problem?" Yumichika pressed.

"The problem is I . . . "

_"You're afraid to go back to the way things were before your father came around and messed everything up. Just admit it. You were so afraid little pretty would leave you that you abandoned him before he could abandon you. And now, you're just being a stubborn, stupid moron who's afraid to try again!"_

Ikkaku rebuked his conscience for not being very well formed. "The problem is that even while I like having you around, I hate having you around."

"Now, you're talking nonsense—" Yumichika began, but Ikkaku cut him off.

"It's not nonsense. All those months we were apart—"

"Were you happy without me?" Yumichika asked. "Answer me truthfully."

Ikkaku sighed. "Sometimes. Most of the time, not. But there were times when I was happy. I was happy working in the shipyards."

"But you left them. You chose me over the shipyards," Yumichika reminded him. "If you really wanted to go back to Guckoo, you know you could. Like you said, I can take care of myself, so there's no reason for you to stay with me." His voice grew dulcet. "Unless you want to. Do you want to, Ikkaku?"

Ikkaku waited for Yumichika's seductive powers to kick in. He assumed, from the tone of Yumichika's voice, that he was about to be plied. But when no such influence was felt, he realized that Yumichika was looking for an honest answer, one uncoerced by his abilities.

Ikkaku considered. He knew what he wanted. He knew precisely what he wanted. What was unclear was whether or not it was good for him. And good for Yumichika.

"I haven't decided yet," he said after several seconds.

"Then I'll stay with you until you decide," Yumichika stated.

"And if I decide that I want to be alone?" Ikkaku challenged. "Will you leave?"

Yumichika grinned. "I haven't decided yet."

Ikkaku growled his frustration as he got to his feet. "You may have a zanpakuto, but you haven't really changed at all, have you?"

"Oh?"

"You're still as hardheaded as ever."

Yumichika smirked in the darkness. "Huh, that's quite an accusation, coming from you."

"Let's just get moving."

Their passage through the wood was not without peril. They followed the course of the river, staying at least a hundred meters from its bank.

The storm overtook them quickly, and its violence was spectacular. The trees whipped in the wind, bringing large branches down. Thunder and lightning broke directly overhead, shaking the ground and making the very air tremble around them. The rain was so heavy and the wind so vicious that the leafy canopy overhead offered no protection at all. Within seconds, they were both drenched to the bone.

"This is unbelievable!" Yumichika shouted above the din. "We mightaswell be out in the open, as wet as we're getting!"

"Stop griping!" Ikkaku hollered back.

"I'm not griping! Just making an observation!" Yumichika countered.

But Ikkaku was not concerned with Yumichika's griping or his observations. He was too busy noticing that the ground seemed to be getting less and less firm, soggy and squelchy, requiring more and more effort with each step.

After five more minutes of walking, they were sinking up to their ankles. As night gave way to morning, even under the black sky, Ikkaku could see the ground ahead and to the left, in the direction of the river, was being overtaken quickly by rising water. The trees had grown more sparse, the ground punctuated with tufts of swamp grass. It was part of a flood plain, only the woods had disguised its vulnerability.

"This is turning into a bog," Ikkaku said. "The river must overflow into these woods."

"It's getting a little tough—" Yumichika began, but Ikkaku cut him off.

"We have to move away from the river before the water gets even higher. We can't keep heading downhill," Ikkaku stated. "Come on, this way."

Yumichika followed him without question. He could see with his own eyes that the water was rising at a dangerous pace. He could easily use the speed move and get to safety, but Ikkaku could not; and Yumichika would not leave him under any circumstance.

It became clear to both of them very quickly that the land over which they were moving was a flash swamp, the ground porous and turning into crippling mud, submerged under water that was now above knee-level.

Ikkaku looked back over his shoulder. Yumichika was struggling. If the water got much higher, they might not make it to higher ground and be forced to take refuge up in the trees. Surely, flood waters couldn't reach the top of the trees.

No. He didn't believe that. Nothing was a sure thing.

They had to get to higher ground.

He reached back and took hold of Yumichika's wrist. "Come on. We've got to hurry."

Yumichika kept up with him, but they were not outrunning the water. Instead, it continued to rise, as if filling a bowl.

"Why is it rising so fast?" Yumichika called out, his voice almost drowned out by the sound of thunder.

Ikkaku came to an abrupt halt. "There's why."

Up ahead of them was a wall of sheer rock, rising up at least sixty meters, criss-crossed with narrow ledges and dotted with the odd cliff-anchored scrub tree. To the left and the right, thirty or forty meters in each direction, torrents of water at least two stories high were rushing out in spumes from the inland high grounds. Who knew how many more such storm rivers were feeding the bog?

"It's flooding from the river and from inland," Ikkaku said, and he sounded more worried than he'd intended. "We need to get to the top of this cliff."

"It looks like there's a path on that ledge. See? It's got a switchback over there," Yumichika replied. "If we can get to that path, maybe we can get on top."

"It's worth a try," Ikkaku said. "It's the only chance we've got." A quick glance to his right showed the ledge at its lowest point close to where the flume was draining its contents into the bog. He led the way along the foot of the cliff, drawing nearer to the gushing spout and feeling its power begin to push and pull at his body. He grasped at the cliff for stability. When he was less than five meters away, his hand came up against something hard and thin protruding from the rock. It was a rusty iron spike.

There were several of them, placed moving up the cliff at regular intervals. They formed a sort of ladder that led up to the ledge. Apparently, the bog had its visitors who knew how to come and go.

He pulled Yumichika up in front of him, amazed that the water was now up to the smaller man's chest. "Go up!" he ordered.

Yumichika pulled himself out of the water and climbed up to the ledge. Here, he waited until Ikkaku was safely up and then he began following the ledge up the side of the cliff. Coming to the first switchback, he maneuvered carefully, for the higher he climbed, the narrower the ledge became. Yumichika was sure-footed and not in the least bit afraid of heights, but as he neared the far end of the ledge, he began to worry. He did not see another switchback. Did the ledge just end?

He edged closer to the corner of the flume and craned his head around. To his relief the ledge continued its upward path towards the top of the crevice. Directly overhead, he could see the water-laden earth sagging over the sides of the rocky sublayer. These great bowls of dripping mud and rain splattered down onto the path, but it was still passable.

He waited until Ikkaku was at his elbow.

"As long as the water stays below the ledge, we should be alright," he announced. "The path looks like it keeps going up, but I can't see the top where it comes out."

"Let's just go," Ikkaku grumbled. "It's not like we can go back."

Yumichika nodded and turned into the ravine. The rushing water generated a strong wind that drove the rain and spray into their eyes, but at least here, the path was a bit wider.

Ikkaku was moving without thinking. Each step came automatically. While he no longer feared that he and Yumichika would be overtaken by the rising water, he now wondered what they would find on top of the cliff. He was tired and hungry; and even with the adrenaline pumping through his veins, he was still feeling the effect of his ordeal in the river. The pain was throbbing in his side and in his lungs.

He wanted this to be over. He wanted to find someplace dry and warm where he could nurse his injuries and maybe Yumichika could scare up some food.

In fact, he was so starving that, at first, he thought the rumbling was in his stomach.

"Ikkaku!"

At the sound of Yumichika's voice, he raised his eyes from their fixated survey of his footing just in time to see Yumichika fly into him, knocking him back. Ikkaku slid down the path, his legs and lower body going over the ledge. He stopped himself from falling only by his fingernails. All around him was noise and chaos and water and . . . . mud and rock.

Pulling himself back onto the path, he looked up to see an entire section of the flume wall had come down. Where he had been standing was completely obliterated.

And Yumichika was nowhere in sight.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30 Rescue and Escape

_"It's not the way that you say it  
><em>_when you do those things to me.  
><em>_It's more the way that you mean it,  
><em>_when you tell me what will be."_

_Question  
><em>Justin Hayward

* * *

><p>Yumichika raised one hand to his head.<p>

He wasn't dead.

He knew he very well should be, but he wasn't.

To his surprise, he could feel the fingers of his right hand still clenched in a death grip around the hilt of his zanpakuto. He had not drawn it. There'd been no time, and what good would it have done him anyway? But after pushing Ikkaku out of the slide's path, his next reflex had been to make sure nothing happened to Ruri'iro Kujaku. If he lost the zanpakuto in the crush of earth, rock and water, he might never find him again.

He could feel the reikon's presence, steady and dependable – surprising, considering their last meeting; but he also detected a sense of urgency and uncertainty. All around him, the sound of rushing water battered his senses. He opened his eyes, hoping to find himself in the maroon room – or at least some place in his inner world. But he knew from the noise surrounding him that it was a hope in vain. Instead, his eyes opened onto the outside world, looking at a scene he could scarcely comprehend.

A wall of water was raining down three – maybe four – meters from his face. His body, lying at an angle, was buried in mud, rock and debris from the waist down. He couldn't move even his toes. A glance to his right showed his arm disappearing under more rubble, punctuated by a boulder the size of a wagon wheel. Somewhere behind that boulder, out of sight but in his grasp, was Ruri'iro Kujaku.

He looked up to see a slab of rock over his head. It had come within centimeters of crushing him, but it had jammed just above his head, forming a roof over which the flume water was now passing. Yumichika immediately discerned two things: first, he was not under the greatest depth of the flow, for enough of the encroaching daylight came through for him to see his situation relatively well; second, the boulder pinning his arm also appeared to be the main support holding the slab over his head. He could not free his arm without bringing the entire place down on top of him.

He was trapped without any way to free himself. He was sure Ikkaku did not know where he was, and even if he did, there was no way for him to help. It would take a superhuman effort to dig him out of this one.

He was going to die. Here, under the earth and rocks and water. Not a soul to witness his death. Ikkaku would never find him. Maybe, after all that had transpired between them lately, he wouldn't even try looking. Yumichika could sense that Ikkaku was still alive, but he could feel little more than that. His mind was sluggish, and numbness was beginning to set in.

He could turn to Ruri'iro Kujaku; but at this point, the zanpakuto could bring him little more than comfort as he died. And even that was questionable. How likely was Ruri'iro Kujaku to show him kindness, given recent events?

His thoughts turned back to Ikkaku, and he felt cheated. After everything he had gone through to find him, after all his perseverance and dogged determination, even holding on through rejection, this was how it was going to end?

No. No, Yumichika could not let go that easily. He had to believe that Ikkaku would try to save him if he knew he were alive.

And one thing Yumichika could definitely do was let Ikkaku know he was not dead – not yet.

He gathered the remnants of his failing reiatsu and sent one pulse of seductive power radiating out from his prison.

Then he laid his head back, closed his eyes, and prayed that whether it be death or rescue, it would not be long in coming.

* * *

><p>Ikkaku was still on his stomach. He inched to the edge of the ledge and looked over into flume, littered with the fallen cliff side and casting water in all directions now.<p>

"Yumichika!" he screamed, his eyes scanning the rubble; but his desperate search turned up no sign of him. "Yumichika!"

The violence of the scene before him made survival seem impossible.

But this was Yumichika. Yumichika had lived through disaster before. He'd shown that, if he possessed anything, it was endurance. On top of that, he'd prevailed in the river against the hollow. Could it not be that he had survived this calamity, as well?

He had to be alive. Ikkaku could not accept the alternative.

He swung his legs over the edge and extended his arms until his feet came in contact with the top of a fan of rocks and earth. Carefully letting himself down, he put weight on the surface. The soil on top was loose and slid beneath his feet; but directly beneath were rocks, and even though they shifted as he stood on them, they did not give the feel of total instability. He continued to pick his way deeper into the flume, all the time calling out Yumichika's name and getting no response. Given the roar of the water, he could not even be sure Yumichika would hear him – or that he could hear Yumichika.

At last, he came to a point where he could go no further. He was as low as the water would allow, and it was a dangerous place where one unexpected surge could sweep him off his perch. He felt both panicked and despairing at the same time. What was he to do? He could not—would not—leave without finding Yumichika.

But even as he set his conviction, he was forced to accept that it was a conviction ill-formed. If Yumichika were buried under the mass of earth and rock, it was unlikely Ikkaku would ever find him. Many boulders were too big for him to move, and the sheer enormity of the slide would have required dozens of men many weeks to clear. There was also the possibility that Yumichika could have been caught in the flood and carried back down to the bog. How long would it be before those waters receded, affording Ikkaku a chance to search for him?

Ikkaku rubbed his hands over his face. "Damn . . . "

He looked back up towards the ledge, seeing the gouge in the wall of the flume where the landslide had come down. It was a long climb back up . . .

_"If you give up now, you're an even bigger bastard than I thought you were."_

"Damn," he repeated. "Yumichika . . . "

Almost as if in response, he felt the sudden and unmistakable pull of Yumichika's reiatsu. It was faint and brief – an instant – but it was unquestionably the seductive twinge that could only come from Yumichika. Short and weak though it was, it had contained enough potency to direct Ikkaku's attention to a slanted rock shelf adjacent to the face of a shallow cascade, slightly upstream from where he was standing, but several meters above his current level.

With renewed vigor, he began climbing.

* * *

><p>"<em>Master. Come to me."<em>

"Ruri'iro Kujaku?" Yumichika was not sure if he were speaking out loud or in the silence of his mind.

"_We're running out of time. Come to me."_

Yumichika opened his eyes. He was in the cave of the peacocks, lying beside the pool. Ruri'iro Kujaku was beside him, one hand resting heavily on his abdomen, the other moving from one leg to the other.

The reikon's halo was dim, the gravity palpable in his reiatsu.

"It's not working," Yumichika said in a raspy voice.

"It _is_ working," Ruri'iro Kujaku corrected. "It's been working all this time. Otherwise, you'd be dead." He paused. "But I'm losing power, master. As fast as I heal you, you start bleeding again. You're hurt very badly. You're crushed under all this earth. I'm having to give you a lot of reiatsu. If we can't get you out before my own energy is depleted . . . "

The rest of the sentence was understood.

Several seconds followed in which neither of them spoke, then Yumichika said one word. "Ikkaku?"

"He's alive, but that's all I know," Ruri'iro replied. "I've been focused on you." If he felt any jealousy, he did not let it come through in his voice.

After another somber pause, Yumichika conceded, "I don't see any way out of this." At Ruri'iro Kujaku's silence, he was prompted to ask, "Do you?"

"As long as you have me in your hand, there are always options," the Kujaku replied. "But none of them would be agreeable to you."

"If it—if it can save my life, I'm willing to hear it," Yumichika said, his voice growing more feeble by the second.

Ruri'iro Kujaku sounded reluctant, even fearful, as he explained. "Everything in your world is made up of spirit particles." He paused. "If I can absorb an opponent's reiatsu, maybe I can do the same with objects."

Yumichika was astounded by the idea. It was such an incredible concept that he could not believe it might be a possibility.

Ruri'iro Kujaku went on. "It would mean releasing me, and I don't even know if it would work. I've never tried it before." A pause. "And Madarame might see."

"But . . . what would you do? I'm under all those rocks and mud . . . and on top of that is more water. You can't possibly absorb all of that."

"I might be able to absorb just enough to free you and then . . . well, I don't know how much is on top of us. We may end up getting crushed completely or I may be able to open a window of time just long enough for you to get free. The only way for me to save you, master, is to get you out from under all the debris that's crushing the life out of you. And I have to do it before it's too late. You're growing weaker, and so am I."

"But how am I going to release you? My arm is trapped and—"

"Say the command."

Yumichika hesitated. What his zanpakuto was proposing was a long shot. And although the prospect of Ikkaku seeing the kujaku in action was a deterrent, Yumichika truly did not think the plan would work. And if it did, he was under so much rubble that perhaps Ikkaku would not even see what was happening.

He returned to the outside world and after taking a moment to gather his courage, he said in a calm voice, "Sakikurue, Ruri'iro Kujaku."

He could feel the weapon come to life in his hand. He could feel the energy tingling in his fingers and up his arm. Then, almost instantly, there was a warmth beneath his legs. Lifting his head, he looked down to see a slender blue-green finger of vine poke its way up through the sediment, like a sprouting plant. Another followed. Then another. They were all thin and delicate, but so was the job they needed to do. If too much earth or rock was absorbed in the wrong place, it could bring the entire thing down.

Yumichika watched in amazement as the material around the vines disappeared, and the vines grew brighter and more vibrant.

It was working!

In less than thirty seconds, he was beginning to see his hips and his legs. Then, with the pressure relieved, the blood that had been squeezed out of his lower body came rushing back into damaged organs and limbs. The pain seized him with such force that it took his breath away. The shock sent a wave of cold through his body. His eyes rolled back in his head.

"No, master! If you lose consciousness, I—"

Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice ended suddenly.

But another voice took its place just as the blackness set in.

"Yumichika!"

* * *

><p>From the moment Ikkaku had felt the faint flare of Yumichika's reiatsu, he'd been making his way up to the shelf of rock, his journey made all the more treacherous with the shifting mass of the fallen wall. He kept the location in his sight, incredulous that anyone could be alive in such a place. But he knew what he had felt, and he was determined to find Yumichika. As he drew up to a precarious tip of rock jutting out of the water just below the cascade, a strange light suffused the fall from behind; and even though it was refracted and dulled by the water, he knew it immediately. It was the same light he had seen that day at the quarry pool.<p>

Yumichika's zanpakuto.

And suddenly, Ikkaku felt a surge of hope, and it was this that powered his final leap up to the rocky shelf just opposite the fall. The light was directly in front of him now, seeming to grow stronger.

All Ikkaku had to do now was jump through the curtain of water. He had to believe that there was a recess behind it – otherwise, where would the light be coming from? But still, he was not sure. What if the only thing behind the fall was a wall of rock? Or what if the water of the fall was deeper than it looked? Would he even be able to make it all the way through in a single leap?

Then the light vanished, and Ikkaku's decision was made for him.

He drew a deep breath and, without hesitation, sprang into the water.

A second later, he was on the other side, on his hands and knees in a gritty concoction of mud and rubble.

But beneath it, his hand touched something very smooth that gathered in his clenched fingers . . .

Cloth?

He wiped the water out of his eyes with the back of one hand.

There, lying in front of him, was Yumichika.

"Yumichika!" he cried out, scrambling on all fours up the sloping and unstable surface.

Yumichika was unconscious, and Ikkaku could see right away that the situation was dire. Not only were Yumichika's injuries serious – his entire body was crushed from the waist down; but his arm was pinned, trapping him in this tiny hollow. Ikkaku ascertained right away that he had no time to dally or second-guess himself. The water pouring over the fall was slowly eating away at the earthen base on which Yumichika was lying. It was also the same base holding in place the boulder pinning Yumichika's arm. The boulder holding up the slab over their heads.

When enough sediment had been washed away, the boulder would break loose and the entire thing would come down on top of them.

Ikkaku began digging carefully around Yumichika's arm. The mud gave way easily beneath his fingers. He only hoped he could clear away enough mud to free him without weakening the support.

Beside Yumichika's head, a small trickle of water broke through.

Ikkaku had to hurry.

* * *

><p>How had his store of spirit energy been so quickly depleted?<p>

After what had happened back at the quarry, after the taking of the reiatsu of four men—weak men, though they were—Ruri'iro Kujaku had felt more powerful and radiant than ever before. He'd used barely a fraction of his energy since then, but here he was on the verge of collapse. It was true that, as long as his master had remained trapped and crushed, he'd been funneling energy continually to him in order to keep him alive. He'd not been able to heal him, not with the weight of the debris still crushing his body. But now, his master was mostly free, and Ruri'iro could repair the damage.

Only he found he had very little spirit energy left. He should not be in this condition. What had weakened him so? His own strength did not rely on his master's physical condition, so Yumichika's injuries should not be impacting him.

A thought began circulating slowly in his mind.

Yumichika had become very strong, much stronger than Ruri'iro had realized. Over the past twenty-five years, his reiatsu had blossomed into a power far beyond what it had been back in Mito. It seemed that, as Yumichika's strength had increased, so had the reiatsu required to sustain him.

In keeping him alive for the last ten minutes, Ruri'iro Kujaku had been forced to use more reiatsu than he'd expected. And now, he wondered if he would have enough to finish the job – or at least get his master out of danger of dying.

In the cave of the peacocks, he worked with quiet resolve, refusing to allow fear to overcome his efforts. If he could restore his master to the point of consciousness, Yumichika might be able to dig his arm out himself. Ruri'iro seriously hoped so, for he doubted he would be able to manage a release of any kind at this point. He would neither be able to free his master nor restore his energy any faster than he was now.

The situation seemed hopeless; but until death came, Ruri'iro Kujaku would continue to do what he could. Letting his master die from lack of trying was so repulsive that he could not imagine anything less beautiful.

* * *

><p>Something was happening to his arm.<p>

Damn, it hurt. Had the boulder come loose and mashed his arm to bits?

He was still holding onto Ruri'iro Kujaku, but his grip was being challenged. Someone was pulling his arm, but his zanpakuto, having reverted back to its sword form when he lost consciousness, was up against the boulder and could not come through. His fingers began to give way.

"Come on, come on!"

Was that Ikkaku's voice?

"Ikkaku?" Had he spoken out loud?

"I'm here. Just another second . . . I'm sorry if this hurts."

Yes, that was definitely Ikkaku's voice. And in the next second, Yumichika cried out in a sloppy, half-conscious slur as his arm was yanked forcefully from beneath the boulder.

Without his zanpakuto.

_"Master!"_

Yumichika felt Ikkaku lifting him up and slinging him over his shoulder.

"Wait . . . " His voice was too feeble to be heard over the sound of the water.

Ikkaku sprang through the cascade, landing soundly on the shelf on the other side. He looked above and below him. Where the hell was he going to go now? It would be almost impossible to climb up with Yumichika on his back. And down would lead onto the flooded bog, now at least two meters deep under water.

But before he could make a decision, he felt a hand clutching clumsily at his arm and heard Yumichika's voice.

"My—my zan—pakuto."

Ikkaku ignored him. He hadn't seen the weapon, although clearly it had to have been buried somewhere in the rubble, given the light it had cast earlier.

It wasn't casting any light now; and even if it had been, Ikkaku was not inclined to go after it. Yumichika didn't need a zanpakuto. All the weapon had done thus far was complicate things. It had been a source of deception through most of their acquaintance, and it could do nothing but present a danger to someone as meek and diminutive as Yumichika.

As far as reasoning went, it was ridiculous; and Ikkaku knew it. But here was a chance to be rid of the weapon, the cause of his jealousy. In his mind, the matter was settled; and he turned his attention to the more urgent problem of how to get out of the flume.

He chose to try going up. He began to pick his way over the cache of smaller rocks just above the shelf, using one arm to hold Yumichika steady over his shoulder, and the other to balance himself on the uneven surface.

Yumichika, however, was not going to cooperate.

"Stop!" he demanded with as much energy as he could muster, which did not amount to much. "My zanpakuto!" He pushed himself up, trying to slide down from Ikkaku's shoulder.

Ikkaku only tightened his grip. "There's no time, Yumichika. All of this could give way at any second. The rain is still falling, and the water is still coming."

Yumichika twisted, forcing Ikkaku to set him on the rocks. The moment Yumichika's feet touched down, he tried to pull away, back towards the cascade.

"Yumichika! Stop! We're both going to get killed!"

"I can't leave him!" Yumichika insisted, still trying to elude Ikkaku's grasp.

"I didn't come after you just to have us both die trying to find your zanpakuto!" Ikkaku shouted, squeezing his arms for emphasis, but noticing at the same time, that the damage to Yumichika's body that he had seen earlier behind the fall appeared to be at least partially healed now. Yumichika was standing – unsteadily – and, although he seemed to be in a state of muddled consciousness, there was one thing he was dead set on. He did not want to leave his zanpakuto behind.

"Let me go! I have to—I have to—Ikkaku, let go!" Yumichika cried out, sounding downright hysterical now. "I can't lose him—"

Ikkaku swung him around and took him firmly by the shoulders. "Listen to me! We're getting out of here! Do you hear me? It's too fucking dangerous to stay here looking for your zanpakuto!"

Yumichika struggled against him. "I can't leave him . . . he's part of me."

_"If you don't go in there after him, partner, I swear I'll make sure you live to regret it!"_

" Ehhh—fuck!" Ikkaku thrust Yumichika to the ground. "Where is it?"

Yumichika started to get to his feet.

"No! Just tell me where it is," Ikkaku ordered.

"Behind the rock that was pinning my arm," Yumichika replied, stopping on his knees.

"Sit the hell down and wait here!" Ikkaku threatened. "If you come after me, I'll break every damned bone in your fucking little body!"

Ikkaku turned and walked the short few steps back to the shelf. No sooner had he disappeared behind the fall than Yumichika got to his feet and staggered to the shelf where he stood wavering and shaking. Less than a minute later, Ikkaku came bursting through the curtain of water, running directly into Yumichika and knocking them both down.

"Damn it, Yumichika, I told you—"

Yumichika was not interested in what Ikkaku had told him. He looked down and saw Ruri'iro Kujaku in Ikkaku's hand. He snatched the weapon away and wrapped both hands around it, bringing it to his chest. He said nothing for a long few seconds, then looked up at Ikkaku.

"Thank you."

"Believe me, you're going to pay for this later. But right now, we need to get out of here," Ikkaku replied. He stood up and pulled Yumichika to his feet. "Can you walk?"

"Yes."

It became clear right away that _yes _meant _no._ _Yes_ meant a faltering, barely upright totter. After nearly thirty minutes of attempting to climb up to the ledge, Ikkaku realized that was simply an impossibility. The water was still pouring down the flume, and the flotsam and jetsam shifted with the pressure of the water, becoming battering rams and projectiles.

"This is crazy," Ikkaku said to himself. Looking at Yumichika, arm looped over his shoulder, limping and stumbling along, he came to the only conclusion. They were not going to get to the ledge. He stopped climbing and looked around.

Not far from where they stood, a piece of driftwood, the long, stripped bare trunk of a tree lay atop a rock-filled crevice. The water had not yet reached that level, owing to its flow being disturbed by the landslide.

"Wait here," Ikkaku ordered, setting Yumichika down on a flat-topped rock, pitted with fist-sized holes that were filled with water.

Yumichika sat, grateful for a chance to rest.

Ikkaku climbed over several large boulders and a mess of flood waste until he came to the tree. He leaned over and lifted.

Perfect. It was still solid enough that it wouldn't disintegrate in the water, and it was a good three meters long. As the water rose, if it got up to this point, they could simply hold onto the tree and float along with it. Ikkaku wanted to kick himself for not having thought of it in the first place back down on the bog. It would have saved them the disaster of the flume. They could have just found a log on the forest floor and floated to safety as the water rose.

"Decisions never made are always the best ones," he grumbled to himself.

It didn't matter. He was making a decision now, and it may or may not be the best; but it was the only one with any chance of success. He returned to Yumichika and helped him to his feet.

"Come on."

"What is it?" Yumichika asked, his words slurring together like a drunken man.

"There's an old tree over here. When the water gets up to this level, we can hang onto it, and it will keep us afloat," Ikkaku replied, practically carrying Yumichika over the rubbish.

"Oh . . . that's a good idea," Yumichika said, but he sounded hardly interested. The moment Ikkaku set him down beside the tree, propping him up against it, his eyes closed and his head lolled against his chest.

"Yumichika? Yumichika, look at me."

Yumichika raised his head and regarded Ikkaku through blurred vision.

"Are you alright? You're not going to—you're not going to duck out on me are you?" Ikkaku asked.

"Duck? You—you mean die? No, I don't—I'm tired, that's all."

"Your reiatsu . . . it's weak," Ikkaku said tepidly, not sure if it were a good idea to mention this, although he was sure Yumichika had to be aware of the state of his own spirit energy.

"I'll be okay. Just . . . let me rest."

Ikkaku noticed Yumichika's hands, curled into fists around his zanpakuto, and a knot of intense loathing rose up inside him.

_"He would have died trying to go back and get you,"_ he said to himself. _"And for what? You've been at the root of everything that's happened, haven't you? You have all that power, and he doesn't know what to do with it, how to handle it. I should have left you back there. If I had it to do over again . . . " _The scowl on his face deepened. _"But I'll tell you this . . . if you really are as powerful as he says you are, then you'd better damned well use some of your spirit energy to help him now. If he dies, it will be your fault."_

He sat down beside Yumichika, who was already asleep; but Ikkaku spoke to him as if he were wide awake.

"And you're no better, you bastard."

* * *

><p>"You don't look too good, flashy."<p>

"I may feel bad, but I know I always look good." Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice was thin. He was sitting ungracefully in the center of the shrine's flower mosaic, looking disheveled and pale. He didn't even have the strength to look up at the mirror that was floating only a few meters away.

From within that mirror, Hoozukimaru could see right away that Ruri'iro was in a weakened state. "I thought for a minute there, I was going to lose you."

Ruri'iro Kujaku spoke quietly. "So did I."

"Why so gloomy? Everything turned out okay," Hoozukimaru said.

"Did it?"

Hoozukimaru bit his tongue. He forgot that Ruri'iro Kujaku was not as privy as he was to the goings-on in the outside world. "Well, so far, it seems. Your master is safe. My master went back in to rescue you. Now, they're both waiting in that gorge for the water to rise, and then they'll ride out on a piece of wood." He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "Pretty ingenious, huh?"

"I suppose."

Hoozukimaru looked perplexed and concerned. "What's wrong with you? I can feel your spirit energy is practically zero. What's going on?"

Ruri'iro Kujaku sighed. "I need to replenish my reiatsu." He had to pause a long time to recover his breath. "It took almost everything I had to keep him alive."

"Well, you did it. He's still alive," Hoozukimaru offered, adding whimsically. "He looks pretty much like you do right now – out of it. Last thing I saw, he'd passed out."

"I wasn't able to heal him completely. I had to stop . . . " He fell silent in exhaustion.

"Maybe you should get some rest," Hoozukimaru suggested. "You really don't look good."

"I don't want to rest," Ruri'iro Kujaku replied. "I don't . . . want to be alone."

"That's silly."

"I guess it is."

"Well, I'm only here because you opened the bridge, so I'm here as long as you want," Hoozukimaru shrugged.

"I didn't do anything to bring you here," Ruri'iro protested. "I still don't understand . . . how it happens." Another silence ensued. " Even if I did, I'm too weak to have brought you here. " He managed to raise his eyes. "Maybe you could find a way out of the mirror."

"The mirror?"

"That's how I see you: in a mirror."

"Hm. I see you in the water."

"Mm." Ruri'iro's gaze dropped again, and he actually began trembling with weakness.

Hoozukimaru hesitated. He actually was beginning to feel worried. "Are you going to be alright?"

"I thought—I had a lot of spirit energy stored up, but it's almost all gone," Ruri'iro answered.

"He was hurt badly—"

"It wasn't just that." He grew even more quiet. "I realized something today."

"Oh, yeah?"

"The reason it took so much reiatsu to keep him alive was because . . . he's grown amazingly strong. Stronger than I thought he was," Ruri'iro Kujaku said.

"So? That's what you wanted, isn't it? You wanted him to become stronger," Hoozukimaru reminded him.

"Yes, but—but he's—he's so strong now that—"

"Are you afraid he's stronger than you?"

Ruri'iro Kujaku frowned. "No. He's not stronger than me. Not yet. But his reiatsu is so powerful that I'm afraid . . . he doesn't realize how strong it is." A long pause. "Without me, he—he won't know how to use it, how to control it."

Now, Hoozukimaru understood. So, here was the truth. The peacock's despondency wasn't just due to his depleted reiatsu; the greater part of it rested on the fear that his master was going to leave him behind. Even through the mystery of their communication, Hoozukimaru could sense the pervasive sadness dominating the world on the other side.

"Without you? You intend on leaving him?" he asked, purposefully turning the question on its head.

"Leaving him? You know I can't." He looked pained. "Even if I could, I wouldn't. I would never leave him. I love him."

"So, you think he's gonna leave you behind?"

"He did—"

"No—"

"Yes, he did. He left me—"

"No, he didn't," Hoozukimaru cut him off emphatically. "You think he left you behind in the landslide."

"He did. I know when I'm in his hand, and I felt him let go of me—"

"You idiot." Hoozukimaru shook his head. "He didn't intend to leave you behind. He was barely conscious, and my master pulled him away without knowing you were—"

"He let go of me—"

"Agh! You dumbass! He didn't let go, he was pulled away from you! And once he was outside, he wouldn't leave without you. My master had to jump back in there and dig you out! And my master hates you. He hates you, but he still went back for you because your master was having a fit!" Hoozukimaru said in a rush.

"Really?"

"Shit, yes, really. Do you think my master would have saved you for any other reason than that your master wanted him to? My master would have left you there to rust."

Ruri'iro Kujaku was thoughtful. "So, he didn't leave me?"

"He'd die without you," Hoozukimaru replied, exasperated. "It's disgusting how similar the two of you are. Two needy, prissy pretty birdbrains—"

A faint smile came across Ruri'iro's face.

Hoozukimaru felt a sense of accomplishment. This was what he had been shooting for. "You look a lot better when you smile."

Ruri'iro regarded him fondly. "Thank you."

Hoozukimaru shrugged. "Eh, for what?"

"For comforting me," Ruri'iro said, his voice and manner earnest.

"Comfort? Ugh, that's so soppy! I told you those things because I hate seeing anyone so depressed! Tsk! You're a mushy, sentimental mess."

"Only when I'm tired," Ruri'iro grinned.

"Then I guess it's time for you to get some rest and start rebuilding that reiatsu. I'll be here until you kick me out."

"I wish you were really here," Ruri'iro said.

"You'll find a way," Hoozukimaru said with certainty. "But right now, go to sleep before you fall over where you're sitting. You're already slanting . . . "

* * *

><p>"Yumichika?"<p>

"Hmm?"

Ikkaku shook him gently. "You need to wake up. It's time to go."

Yumichika opened his eyes. It was full daylight now under a sky still covered with rain clouds and pouring forth its contents. A glance down showed him that the water in the flume had reached the place where they had taken refuge.

"In a few minutes, the water will lift the log and we can just float away with it," Ikkaku said, helping Yumichika to his feet.

"It's still moving pretty fast," Yumichika noted.

"We'll be okay," Ikkaku said assuredly. "We can't stay here. Pretty soon, this will be under water, too."

Ten minutes later, they were able to float the log; and with Ikkaku hooking his arm over from one side and Yumichika from the other, they followed the flow of the water , now deep enough to decrease the turbulence, out of the flume and into a landscape of debris-filled water swirling around the top branches of submerged trees.

Ikkaku kept a close eye on Yumichika, who dozed off several times. At last, he moved hand-over-hand up to him and placed his arm on top of his.

When Yumichika looked up at him through half-closed eyes, Ikkaku explained, "To keep you from falling off."

Yumichika managed a small grin of acknowledgment, then he was out again.

For hours they floated with the current, bumping around trees, occasionally getting caught up against some underwater obstacle, but mostly drifting along without incident. The water in the woods moved at a brisk clip, but not at a dangerous speed. From time to time, as they passed close to another flume, the water grew choppy; but they were able to manage it.

Yumichika slept through almost the entire journey. Ikkaku kept a firm hold on him, waking him only when he needed his help to navigate past minor troubles. He could feel how diminished Yumichika's reiatsu was; and while he was not worried—for it was clear Yumichika was not in any danger of dying—he was curious. Something had happened back at the cascade. Ikkaku had seen the light through the water. Yumichika's zanpakuto had been at work. And Ikkaku had an idea what it had been doing. Yumichika's body had been mangled when Ikkaku had discovered him, but now he was almost fully healed. All that remained was the exhaustion and the weak reiatsu. Yumichika had told him his zanpakuto possessed the power to heal, but Ikkaku was stunned that it was so strong it could repair such damage so quickly. It had taken months for Yumichika to recover from the rape and beating in Mito. The injuries Ikkaku had seen just hours ago had been much more severe. Yet, they were already healed.

Damn, just how strong was this zanpakuto? How much stronger was it now than when they were in Mito? And how did it have the power to heal? Zanpakutos were weapons. They doled out death and defeat. How could it be possible that Yumichika's zanpakuto gave life and healing?

Ikkaku looked at Yumichika, head resting on top of the log, his cheek pressed against the smooth, worn surface, his hair plastered against his face and trailing off into the water. It was the first time since their reunion that Ikkaku could take a close look at him.

He looked like a child.

A very dangerous child.

Oh, he had all the appearance of innocence, even helplessness. But it was all a ruse. Ikkaku had seen for himself that Yumichika was fearfully powerful. And lethal. In a tacit way, he might be the most lethal person Ikkaku had ever known.

Even more lethal than himself.

Yet, it did not sit well on Yumichika. With all the time Ikkaku had spent trying to convince Yumichika to learn how to fight, now that he had done so, Ikkaku was not so sure he was pleased with the results. He had expected Yumichika to learn how to swing a katana, how to master the footwork and finesse of being a swordsman. He hadn't expected Yumichika to end up in possession of a zanpakuto. How was that even possible? Zanpakutos belonged to Shinigami, and Yumichika was definitely not cut out to be a Soul Reaper.

There were so many questions, and Ikkaku's emotions were muddled. But the one feeling that would not abate, the one sentiment he could not deny, even greater than envy, was that of uselessness. Yumichika did not need him, no matter how much he might say otherwise. Yumichika had always been infatuated with him, perhaps even in love with him, but he'd never really needed him. With a weapon like the one in his possession, he seemingly had the ability not only to defend himself, but to heal himself when that defense failed. He held in his hands a power that could kill without combat, that could crush the enemy without ever making contact. It was awe-inspiring, but it was also disgusting. Death should come with a fight, not such an unfair advantage.

"How could you have ended up with a zanpakuto?" Ikkaku whispered, his eyes fixed as if he hoped to find some indication in Yumichika's face of how such a power could have come to be.

But all he saw was the eternal youth, the perplexing combination of arrogance—even in sleep—and generosity. All he saw was the man—physically barely out of childhood—who had left everything to find and be with him.

The man who had surpassed him somewhere along the line, and he hadn't even realized it.

And once again, it brought him back to same question.

What was he going to do?

At least, for the moment, he had an answer. He was going to keep his attention on getting them safely through this predicament.

As the sun began to set, Ikkaku noticed a silhouette against the western and northern horizons. A flat ridge of highlands rose up like the lip of a bowl, a bowl which the river was filling with water. A deep vee-shaped dip showed where the river cut through the ridge. Now, Ikkaku understood why the water had risen so fast. At this downstream point, the river stood in a wide depression of solid rock, covered over the years with layers of silt and peat and eventually swamp trees. Water from the highlands poured down into the river, and with no outlet other than the single, narrow vee, and unable to sink into the rocky sublayer, the water rose like a faucet filling a basin.

Knowing that all water was funneling ever faster towards the vee, and not knowing what was on the other side, Ikkaku guided the log towards the bank, which on the east side of the river, was showing some variation. There might be a place to put in and get up onto the top of the ridge.

After a time, he spotted a broad tumble of fallen rocks. He guided the log closer to the bank and roused Yumichika when they were only a few meters out. The rocks did a good job of breaking up the current and forming a small cove of quiet water. They landed without incident.

Once they were on the shore, Ikkaku noticed that there was a dirt path leading up onto the ridge. The little rock harbor was not a secret. The path also meant that were probably settlements nearby, unless it had been worn by animals.

The two men climbed up the embankment, only to find themselves on top of a spongy, heather-covered burren, rolling away in slowly undulating hills. If there were settlements, they were not visible to the eye; but there were three paths leading away from the spot where Ikkaku and Yumichika stood. One followed the river back upstream along the top of the ridge. Another did the same downstream. The third headed off into the burren. It was this path Ikkaku chose.

They encountered no other living soul, but they did pass several empty burrows, large enough for a man beyond their low, narrow entrances. They postulated about what manner of creature had made the burrows and whether or not they were still inhabited. But no answers were immediately obvious, and they kept walking.

After nearly an hour's going and watching the sun sink below the horizon, Ikkaku grunted, "There's nothing out here."

"Can we rest?" Yumichika asked.

Ikkaku looked at him in the twilight. He looked drawn and peaked.

"Yeah, sure."

"We just passed one of those burrows. We can stay in there," Yumichika suggested.

Ikkaku nodded. "Okay. Let's just hope nothing shows up."

They backtracked a hundred meters or so to where a much narrower path led a couple meters off the main path to a hole in the side of a mound of earth covered with scrubby heath grass. Crawling inside, they were pleased to find it completely dry and large enough for both of them to fit comfortably.

"Hopefully, the rain will have stopped by tomorrow morning," Ikkaku ventured. "I feel waterlogged. And I'm starving—"

He turned to see Yumichika already on the ground in a dead sleep. A prick of worry pestered his calm. It was not like Yumichika to be so low on the spirit energy scale.

He lay down beside him. All he could do now was wait until morning.

* * *

><p>Ruri'iro Kujaku was immediately aware. It had woken him from his sleep. "My master has come," he announced anxiously.<p>

"You'd better go to him," Hoozukimaru replied. The mirror containing his image had remained in the shrine, even as Ruri'iro Kujaku had slept.

"I—I can't," Ruri'iro said, sounding flustered.

"Tsk! Why not? What are you afraid of? He came here because he wants to see you. You'd better go to him," Hoozukimaru admonished.

"It's got nothing to do with fear," came the fretful response. "I _can't _go to him. I don't have the energy. I can't leave the shrine. Not until I've regained my strength."

"Ehh, that's stupid. You're strong enough to move about in your own world," Hoozukimaru challenged.

A grimace of anguish contorted the peacock's beautiful features. "He's calling me."

"Then go."

"I can't!"

"Is he your master or not?" Hoozukimaru pushed. "You sure are a disobedient little preener, aren't you?"

"What good can I be to him right now?" Ruri'iro demanded. "My own reiatsu is taking forever to build back up. How am supposed to help him?"

"Maybe he's not here for help."

Ruri'iro Kujaku looked at him with questioning eyes.

"Maybe he's here to help you," Hoozukimaru suggested.

"To help me? No, no, he's very weak, I can feel that," Ruri'iro said with certainty. "He's here hoping I can help him."

"Then do it. Do what you're supposed to do."

Hoozukimaru's no-nonsense manner was a nice departure from the usual emotion-laden exchanges Ruri'iro had with Yumichika; and it gave him the courage to attempt it. He got to his feet and staggered to the doorway. He looked back over his shoulder. "If this doesn't work, I'm going to blame you," he said, but there was a shadow of a smile on his face.

Hoozukimaru shrugged. "I can take it."

* * *

><p>Why wasn't he coming?<p>

Yumichika could barely feel Ruri'iro Kujaku's reiatsu, but he could sense enough to know that the reikon was still alive. So, why wasn't he responding to his master's call? Was he still angry? Was he injured? Was his spirit energy so weak that he was unable to come to him?

Yumichika had just begun to feel the creep of panic set in when Ruri'iro appeared out of the darkness and entered the maroon room. Yumichika sat up on the bed, vestiges of that panic scrawled across his face.

"Ruri'iro Kujaku! Where were you? Why didn't you come to me? I've been calling and calling—"

Ruri'iro Kujaku dropped to his knees beside him. "I'm sorry, master. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get to you."

Yumichika regarded him with confusion. "What's happening? I—I can barely feel your reiatsu, even though you're right here. I'm not regaining my strength . . . what's going on?"

"I don't know," Ruri'iro answered.

"Are you—are you withholding your spirit energy from me because of what I did? Are you that angry at me?" Yumichika asked.

The reikon wondered if his master knew just how much such a question pained him. "I would never withhold my power from you if you needed it. I'm not withholding it now." He paused. "My own spirit energy isn't coming back as fast as I thought it would."

"Why?" Yumichika's voice was desperate.

"I don't know. I know it took a lot more of my energy to save you this time, and you—you've grown so much more powerful that it takes more energy to bring you to a level needed for just survival. But if neither of us is replenishing our reiatsu faster than this . . . I don't know, master. I don't know."

"You must be doing something wrong," Yumichika said, not in an accusative voice, but simply as a result of not having any other possibility for what was happening.

Still, Ruri'iro Kujaku heard it as a finger pointing and started to stand up, but Yumichika reached out and grabbed hold of the long feathers on his arm coverings. "Stay with me."

The Kujaku was unmoved. "Why?"

Yumichika had no good answer. "Because I'm you're master," he said at last.

Ruri'iro sat back down. He felt Yumichika's hand slip into his own, and he was tempted to pull away; but his love was too great. His need for his master's approval was too great. He returned the grasp.

* * *

><p>Sunlight.<p>

Ikkaku could feel it against his closed eyelids. Opening his eyes, he saw the brightness streaming in through the hole, and he could tell it was the light of a cloudless sky. Beside him, Yumichika was still sleeping, so he got quietly to his feet and went to look outside.

The rain had stopped and the sky was clear.

It raised his spirits.

He heard Yumichika's squeaky yawn behind him and turned to see him stretching.

"Did I wake you?"

"No," Yumichika replied, sitting up. "I was ready to get up."

"It's sunny outside," Ikkaku said.

"That's good," Yumichika said.

Ikkaku sat down beside him. "Are you going to be okay? Your reiatsu is still very weak."

"It's coming back slowly. I lost a lot back there in the flume," Yumichika replied.

Ikkaku eyed him seriously. "You were hurt badly."

Yumichika nodded.

"He healed you, didn't he?"

"Yes," Yumichika answered in a quiet voice.

"In a matter of minutes," Ikkaku went on.

"Except for my reiatsu," Yumichika replied. "There's still a way to go on that." His mind turned back to the hours he had just spent with Ruri'iro Kujaku. Something amazing had happened. Away from each other, neither of them had regained much reiatsu. But once they were together, both of them had found their strength improving at a much faster rate. It had been nothing short of miraculous, and it had taken both of them by surprise. At the time Yumichika had returned to the outside world, neither of them had been fully restored, but much progress had been made.

Still, it had been an uncomfortable situation. Ruri'iro Kujaku had remained beside Yumichika the whole time; but they'd hardly spoken a word, and not just from exhaustion. There was still so much hurt that the easy togetherness they had shared so recently had been nowhere present in their mutual healing.

And Yumichika did not know if they would ever be the same with each other.

"He healed you a lot faster this time than in Mito," Ikkaku observed, pulling Yumichika's thoughts back to the present. "But I think you were hurt much worse this time."

"He's gotten more powerful," Yumichika replied. "That's why I was worried about him when my reiatsu wasn't coming back. I was afraid he'd been injured."

"Injured? It looks okay to me."

Yumichika ignored Ikkaku's repeated use of _it_ to refer to Ruri'iro Kujaku. He could not fault him, for he recalled in his earliest days of discovering the reikon was actually a sword, he was just as guilty of calling his zanpakuto _it_.

Still, Ruri'iro Kujaku would have preferred _it_ to _Fuji Kujaku_.

"He's not just a sword," Yumichika answered. "He's got a spirit, too."

"I know, you told me something about that," Ikkaku said, scruffing it off, not wanting to talk about something that he really could not relate to or comprehend. "It's not important. What's important is that I'm famished. We need to get out there and find something to eat."

Yumichika nodded. "I agree. But . . . first . . . "

"What? Do you feel strong enough to go on?"

"Yes, that's not it. There's something I've wanted to ask you ever since we left Guckoo."

_"Great," _Ikkaku groaned inwardly, bracing himself for one of Yumichika's emotional carousels. Out loud, he simply inquired, "What?"

Yumichika reached out a hand and touched the tip of his finger gently to the corner of Ikkaku's eye.

"What are they?"

Ikkaku had forgotten that Yumichika did not about the okibi, and the inquiry was not what Ikkaku had imagined was coming. He was caught off-guard for a moment, not just by the question but by his own body's reaction to Yumichika's touch. He felt a warmth rise up in him that he hadn't felt since leaving Venla, and he recognized it all too well as his own affection.

"It's, uh . . . it's nothing," he fumbled as Yumichika examined the mark on the other eye with the deftness of a healer probing a wound and the sensuousness of a man detailing his lover's body. "Just something to remind me of the world of the living."

"They must mean something," Yumichika persisted.

Ikkaku stared at him, watching the movement of his eyes as they performed their scrutiny. Damn, he was beautiful; and with that beauty came the memories of all the joys and comforts of their years together. Something in Yumichika's touch, in his expression, invited Ikkaku to once more partake of all the good things Yumichika had to offer. How easy it would be to fall back under Yumichika's spell.

He raised his hand and took firm hold of Yumichika's hand, drawing it down.

"You can't do that anymore, Yumichika," he said in a stern voice.

"Do what?"

Ikkaku was not fooled by the innocuous expression, but he would leave no question unanswered. There could be no room for mistakes this time around. "You can't touch me like that."

"What are you afraid of, Ikkaku?" Yumichika asked, a dash of challenge in his voice, but not enough to be provocative.

"I'm not afraid," Ikkaku answered. "I just want you to understand that things have changed." He released Yumichika's hand and took a pause of consideration. "Look, you want to be with me. I'm not sure it's the best thing for either of us, but I'm not going to stop you. I'm not going to welcome you, either. It's your choice what you do."

"Haven't I already made my choice clear?"

"Yeah, but you may feel differently about it after a while," Ikkaku said, crawling over to the hole. Before going out, he added over his shoulder, "By the way . . . thanks for saving me back there in the flume. If you hadn't pushed me out of the way, I'd probably be dead. I mean, I wish you hadn't done it, but since you did . . . I guess I owe you my thanks."

Yumichika grinned. "You don't sound very grateful."

"That's twice in two days you've saved my life, Yumichika. I don't like being on the owing end of things," Ikkaku grunted, stepping outside.

Yumichika followed him out into the morning light. "I think you've saved my life often enough that we're almost even." He paused. "But if I were keeping score, I'd say I owe a lot more to you than you owe to me."


	31. Chapter 31

_**Dear Reader, **_

_**At long last, this chapter picks up at the flashback Ikkaku has of his first meeting with Zaraki. The dialogue for that part of the chapter is lifted directly from the anime. I hope you enjoy.**_

* * *

><p>Chapter 31 The Demon<p>

_"One man stood firm, guarding cups overflowing,  
><em>_filled with memories and yesterday's dreams.  
><em>_He could never explain his own silent thunder.  
><em>_The ocean just blows rough at this time of year."_

_Celtic Sonnet  
><em>Ray Thomas

Ikkaku glowered in disgust.

This village might as well have not existed, considering its lack of manhood. What was the point of taking up space if a thing served no purpose? This village was useless.

He sauntered alone down the main street, his eyes sweeping left and right in search of the elusive adversary. He spat his disapproval onto the dusty road that led through the center of the village. There was no one – not a single soul who could prick his interest. Instead, as he approached, they all turned away, fearful and anxious to avoid trouble.

This region of Soul Society was a complete bust as far as Ikkaku was concerned. He wished he had never come here.

He and Yumichika had left the river almost two months ago. They'd gone north first, along the east bank. After nearly a week's travel, they'd come to a ferry crossing and made passage. The land on the west side of the river rose up gradually, going from the scrubby heather to a dry, sparsely inhabited wasteland.

Ikkaku had gone from village to village, altercation to altercation; and Yumichika had stayed with him—a quiet companion, not ready to risk losing what he was working so hard to rebuild.

The settlements close to the river had provided a few challenging opponents for Ikkaku, but the further he went into the wastelands, the thinner the pool of prospects. About two weeks earlier, he and Yumichika had come to a cluster of seven or eight villages, all within ten kilometers of each other, centered around a large watering hole that served the needs of the souls who had somehow ended up living in such a parched land.

A kilometer west of the watering hole, the two had stumbled upon a lean-to shelter in the middle of a barren stretch of land. The shelter appeared to be unoccupied. Ikkaku decided it would be a good enough place for the time-being, and it would provide a central location from which he could go looking for someone to match strength with.

A dozen men later, he found himself in his current situation, searching through yet another of the villages and bemoaning the lack of takers. This entire region of the Rukongai had been like this. Dull, colorless villages. Dull, colorless people living in abject poverty. But it was the kind of poverty that brought only despondency, as opposed to the type that brought anger and a desire for vengeance.

These souls were the dregs, the poorest of the poor. They had ceased to care about anything.

In a way, Ikkaku envied them at the same time as despising them for their numb indifference.

Over the past two months, there had many times when he would have gladly traded his sensitivities for that indifference.

Every time he felt Yumichika's reiatsu. Every time he heard his voice. Every time he saw his face.

The situation between them had been bizarre, to say the least, since leaving Guckoo. The incidents at the river had not made it less so. They traveled together but seemed to be barely acquaintances. When they stopped for a rest, they would sit near each other and yet, each was completely alone. Yumichika kept a discreet, almost deferential distance behind Ikkaku when they walked or stood; and this drove Ikkaku crazy, for it did not make Yumichika's presence any less noticeable. If anything, it made Ikkaku antsy about what was going on behind him.

Almost two weeks after the incident in the flume, Yumichika's reiatsu had returned to the level Ikkaku was accustomed to. As for the reiatsu that Yumichika normally kept suppressed, Ikkaku had no idea how much of that had returned. And he didn't want to know. He didn't need to be reminded of Yumichika's strength.

As for Yumichika, he had not made any show of that strength. He'd not drawn his weapon once. Of course, he'd had no reason to do so. In fact, he made no mention of his zanpakuto. He kept his seductive power until tight control in Ikkaku's presence. He had used small amounts of it to procure something to eat here and there; but he kept the means of procurement secret from Ikkaku. Otherwise, he used only his wits and his natural talents to adapt to the life of wanderer.

In fact, Yumichika was doing very well living as a vagrant. He had managed to keep the one outfit he possessed and the one Ikkaku was wearing from disintegrating completely, and he congratulated himself on the sturdiness of his own work that the garments had not fallen apart, even after the events of the river. He managed to maintain his appearance, a considerable feat under the circumstances, and he was able to prevail upon Ikkaku, through subtle persuasion, to practice at least some manner of hygiene. And when Ikkaku fought, Yumichika did not go to his aid or offer any assistance with healing afterwards. He only tended his injuries if asked to do so, although this was not easily accomplished.

It was against Yumichika's nature to refrain from offering help, opinion, or advice, but from his own standpoint, the choice was simple. He was going to stay with Ikkaku, and the less contention the better. He could tell Ikkaku was confused and struggling with his feelings, but he did nothing to try and sway him one way or another. Instead, he let Ikkaku take out his confusion and frustration on those men stupid enough to fight him. He would bide his time. There was no other option. Being without Ikkaku was not a consideration, and he truly believed that deep down, Ikkaku felt the same way about him.

Although there were times when he had to wonder.

Such as that morning. The two of them had left the lean-to mid-morning, heading for the village most directly west of the watering hole. But they hadn't left together, and they hadn't gone for the same purposes. Yumichika was going to scrounge some food. Ikkaku was going to scrounge a fight. As they had been preparing to get underway, Ikkaku had purposefully incited an argument.

"Do you have to bring that thing?"

Yumichika knew what he was referring to. Nevertheless, he finished sliding Ruri'iro Kujaku through his obi.

"He's been with me every day," Yumichika replied. "Why should today be different?"

Ikkaku's only response was to glower and mumble to himself.

"Well, I can't leave him here," Yumichika stated. "Someone might find him."

"Maybe _you_ can stay here," Ikkaku suggested.

"If you don't want to eat," Yumichika said pointedly.

"I can find something—"

"It's easier if I do it," Yumichika stated. "But if it bothers you so much to be around him, then go on ahead. I'll meet you in the village later."

Ikkaku grunted something unintelligible and was on his way.

Once he was out of sight, Yumichika slid Ruri'iro Kujaku underneath the folds of his kimono. He was not about to leave him behind, but he didn't want to do anything to provoke Ikkaku

"No sense in asking for an argument," he said to himself, then he set out for the village.

Despite Ikkaku's gruff behavior that morning, Yumichika had to count it as one of the least contentious days since leaving Guckoo, and it made him feel magnanimous.

He opened up his senses to Ruri'iro Kujaku.

It was the first time he had done so since the flume, and he knew he was taking a risk. His relationship with Ruri'iro Kujaku was proving almost as difficult as his relationship with Ikkaku lately. Communication between the two had become scant, and many weeks had passed since Yumichika had entered his inner world.

It had little to do with Ruri'iro Kujaku and everything to do with Yumichika and his own insecurities. Yumichika knew this; it was not something he could deny. As Ikkaku had made his loathing of the zanpakuto clearer with each passing day, so had Yumichika become more adamant about maintaining his calm and controlling his spiritual energy – both of which were more difficult when he exposed himself to Ruri'iro Kujaku.

The very few times he had spoken with Ruri'iro Kujaku over the past several weeks had been strained and depressing. Something was happening between them, and Yumichika could not figure it out. Yes, Ikkaku was somewhere in the mix, but the distance that was starting to widen between Yumichika and his zanpakuto could not be laid solely at Ikkaku's feet. Cracks had appeared in the foundation as far back as Venla; but even after those tiny fault lines had appeared, there had passed many days and months and years filled with blissful togetherness.

Even now, Yumichika wanted the same for both of them, but it seemed to have slipped beyond his reach. Things had already changed to the point where the joys of the past could not be recaptured. He could only hope that the joys of the future compared favorably.

"It's a beautiful morning," he observed.

After several seconds, he heard Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice in his head, and he knew the reikon was taking advantage of the moment to look outside his world and hear the sounds of the mild fall morning.

_"You're alone?"_

"For a little while," Yumichika replied. "Ikkaku went on ahead of me to one of the villages."

_"Then, may I come out?"_

Yumichika considered. Ruri'iro had not been outside his own world since leaving Guckoo, and he'd accepted the limitation with equanimity. In fact, he'd been exceedingly compliant and docile the entire time. "For a little while," Yumichika parroted his earlier response.

The air around him shimmered and changed color. In the next moment, Ruri'iro Kujaku was standing beside him.

Yumichika felt a shiver of intimidation at the sight of him. In the past two months, Ruri'iro Kujaku had regained all of his spirit energy and was every bit as powerful as he had ever been; and it was not lost on Yumichika that his zanpakuto's request for permission to materialize was simply the same act of courtesy he had always offered, for his power was such that if he had wanted to come out, Yumichika would not have been able to stop him.

Now, here he was in all his dazzling splendor, but Yumichika noticed that in the whirlwind of color surrounding him a sort of dullness now seemed to infiltrate the vibrancy. It was not the same as the dim failing that had befallen him after the flume; it was more as if something icy cold had penetrated the halo and tarnished the brightness, dampened the sparkle.

"Thank you."

The mere fact that Ruri'iro Kujaku was thanking him for manifesting in the outside world was proof that the manner of their interaction had changed. Ruri'iro never would have thought to thank his master for something like that. And the grudging deference with which the gratitude was expressed only reaffirmed that something was going asunder.

"If anyone comes, you'll have to return," Yumichika said as a simple matter of fact.

A moment passed before Ruri'iro Kujaku asked, "Why are you hiding me?"

"Hiding you? Oh—oh, you mean your sword form," Yumichika said, his face flushing red for a moment. "I—uh, I didn't want to—I didn't—"

"Madarame's not even here, so you can't be worried about hiding me from him," Ruri'iro stated.

"Well, I'm going to meet him, and . . . and I just don't want to fight with him—"

"Over me."

"He's very jealous—"

"I know that," Ruri'iro cut him off. "His zanpakuto told me."

"You're still in contact with him?" Yumichika asked, surprised.

"You'd know that if you spent more time with me," the peacock sniffed affectedly.

"Is this why you wanted to come out? So you could argue with me?" Yumichika chastised.

Ruri'iro Kujaku's shoulders dropped. "No. I just . . . I just wanted to be with you in your world."

Yumichika resumed walking. Ruri'iro walked beside him.

"I see you're fully recovered," Yumichika noted.

"As are you."

They walked on in silence for several minutes. For Ruri'iro Kujaku, it was agonizing. The ease he and his master had once felt with each other was declining more and more every day. Yumichika was moving further and further away, and Ruri'iro could not stop it. He yearned for his master on every level; and if he did not have his affection, he had nothing. His own world had already begun to feel empty. Even with Hoozukimaru's intermittent presence, which had become the main source of his companionship and happiness, there was no one and no thing that could compare to his master.

And so, given the invitation to be with him now – and in the outside world – Ruri'iro Kujaku could not even conceive of turning him down, no matter how awkward the situation might be.

"Have you told Madarame any more about me?" he asked at length.

"No," Yumichika replied. "Things aren't . . . things are still tense."

"And what if they stay tense? What happens then?"

"Then we'll deal with it when it comes to it," Yumichika said.

"Aren't we already there? You've been hiding me for years, and now, even though he knows I exist, you still hide me," Ruri'iro lamented.

"I don't want to go into this again, Ruri'iro Kujaku," Yumichika sighed. "I didn't let you out here so that you can make me feel guilty. Stop talking about it."

"But master—"

"I said stop."

"But I only want—"

Yumichika halted in his tracks. "That's enough. Return."

Ruri'iro Kujaku stared at him. "But master—"

"Are you going to disobey me?" Yumichika snapped. "We both know I don't really have the power to stop you, so if you choose to ignore what I tell you, then that shows me what you really feel about me."

"You know what I really feel about you—"

"I know what you say."

"And you know what I do! I have never turned my back on you! Never!"

Yumichika frowned and drew in a long, slow breath. He shook his head and closed his eyes. "I just wanted to spend a few minutes with you, just a few minutes walking side by side. You can't even be satisfied with that."

Ruri'iro Kujaku wanted to tell him, no, he couldn't be satisfied with such a paltry offering. Not when, not so long ago, they had spent entire days in each other's company, touching and embracing and making love as only they could; laughing and teaching and learning, sometimes succeeding, often times failing; speaking the words reserved for the strangely intimate relationship of a master with his servant.

And now, he was expected to be satisfied with a few minutes.

He said nothing.

"If you won't return, then I guess I'm not really your master," Yumichika said after a long silence. "You do what you want." He began walking again. He had gone twenty, perhaps thirty paces, feeling no indication that Ruri'iro Kujkau had returned to the inner world, and the altered colors confirmed that was the case. He turned to see the reikon standing where he had left him.

"Ruri'iro Kujaku?"

After a long hesitation, Ruri'iro answered, "I don't want to go back. I want to stay out here with you. Even if it's just for a few minutes."

Yumichika considered. "And you won't start any arguments?"

"Yes."

"And return when I tell you."

"Yes."

Yumichika nodded. "Okay, then."

"Master?" Ruri'iro inquired. "If I—if I do as you ask, will you let me use your senses when I return? I want to—I get lonely in my world sometimes. This way, I can share all the things you're seeing and doing."

"I'll see," Yumichika replied, and his voice softened. No matter how angry he got at Ruri'iro Kujaku, he could not cover up the soft spot he felt for his quirky zanpakuto. "Now, come on. It's at least six kilometers to the village."

* * *

><p>Well, he'd found someone.<p>

And the fight hadn't even been worth the effort of the search.

These people weren't even fit for picking a fight with. The man he'd goaded into a confrontation had been formidable in appearance, but his spirit had been weak. He'd had no desire to fight, and it occurred to Ikkaku that the man might have agreed to the contest hoping to be killed and thus end with honor—or some semblance of it—a life devoid of meaning.

Ikkaku had walked away after the first three punches, for that was all it took to make it clear that the man had not even a pretense of self-defense, and certainly not the slightest intention of an offense.

As he'd walked away, he'd heard the hushed whispers; and once, he thought he'd heard the word _demon_ tossed back and forth. Huh, let them call him a demon. If that instilled fear in the forlorn inhabitants of this forsaken land, all the better. He didn't need a zanpakuto to strike terror into men's hearts. He didn't need some unfair fighting advantage to best his opponents. And he didn't need any miracle-healer to mop up the aftermath of a hard-fought battle.

And in all his indignant anger and jealousy, the message he had imprinted on his face and his body never entered his thoughts. The meaning of the Okibi and the Dokushin and the stark opposition of his actions to that meaning had been lost in the days since leaving Guckoo. Or maybe it had not been so much lost as purposefully suppressed. There was no way he could reconcile his actions with the expectations of behavior that were associated with the markings; and so, it had been easier for him to abandon the idea of altogether.

Yet, there was one thing he had not been able to shake.

His conscience had been merciless, and its insistent badgering had made Ikkaku surly. He knew he was being unreasonable towards Yumichika. He knew he was running at breakneck speed away from a return to the attachment that had threatened his stoic self-reliance. He knew he had gone back to being gruff, crude, nearly barbaric. And he knew his life had a huge, gaping hole in it that was begging to be filled . . .

And he knew the only person who could fill it.

Damn it, he knew all these things! He didn't need his conscience poking and prodding and pounding him every day, reminding him of things he would rather forget.

Crap, he needed another fight. A good one. One that would help take his mind off the nagging of his conscience. He slung his sword over his shoulders, resting his wrists over the ends, giving him the appearance of a man bound to a yoke, on his way to the gallows. He headed down the main road towards the village limits.

* * *

><p>Yumichika looked over the scant offerings in the grocer's store. There were a few shriveled apples and some <em>holsa<em> root that wasn't too badly marred with insect damage. A small bin held some other root variety that Yumichika did not recognize. And along the wall, strips of sugar bark hung in disorderly rows.

Yumichika felt almost guilty about taking anything from such poor people, but he and especially Ikkaku needed to eat, whereas these souls had such low spirit energy that they probably did not need much.

The store minder was a young girl. Yumichika judged her to be close to his own age. But that was where any similarity between the two ended. She had a dreary expression on her plain, unremarkable face, but she watched every movement Yumichika made with riveted, unsettling attention. Yumichika knew precisely what she was doing. He could detect lust even through the dullest exterior. And since he was not exuding even the slightest bit of his reiatsu at the moment, he concluded that she was drawn by his appearance alone.

She had been watching him from the moment he'd stepped into the store, and now, after fifteen minutes, she approached. "Ya buyin?"

Yumichika regarded her with his best hapless expression. "I'm afraid not."

"Why na? Ya lookin' long 'nuff." Her voice had an inflection in it that Yumichika found unpleasant, even irksome.

Still, he remained as sweet as honey. "I don't have any money."

"Ya don' need monay," the girl said. "I can mae a trade wi' ya."

"Well, I don't—"

She reached out and took his hand. "We got mo' stuffs in the back." She began leading him towards the rear of the store.

Yumichika stopped and turned her to face him. He let the smallest bit of his reiatsu flow. "I think I'd be happier if you . . . do you think you could just give me the food?"

Before she could answer, two men, not much older than the girl, came out of the back room. Yumichika could see the unmistakable resemblance in their features. They were related to the girl somehow – brothers or cousins. They had the same unbeautiful blandness born out of their situation in life, but there in their eyes was the same spark that lit the girl's eyes.

It occurred to Yumichika that among these people, even the slightest bit of reiatsu would draw all kinds of attention.

And it had.

In a flash, the girl screamed, "Mine!" and leapt on top of him, knocking him to the floor.

For a moment, Yumichika was too stunned to react. But he didn't need to worry. The two young men were soon engaged with the girl, the three of them fighting, battling it out to see who apparently would get Yumichika.

Forgotten in the skirmish, Yumichika got to his feet and headed for the door, but not before helping himself to the apples and the bark strips. As he stepped outside, he heard Ruri'iro Kujaku speak.

_"Truly hideous."_

"Yes, it was, wasn't it?" Yumichika replied. "But kind of funny, too."

_"All that for a few scraps of barely edible tidbits that look like they came off someone's rubbish heap," _Ruri'iro bridled.

"Yes, well . . . " Yumichika was already looking down the road to where a woman was sitting before an open fire burning in stone pit. The woman had a small child sitting at her feet.

He walked the few paces to where she sat, held the food out to her, then started walking back up the road.

_"That was kind of you," _Ruri'iro noted. _"Although she probably didn't need it. Her spirit energy was very weak."_

"Ikkaku would have thrown it out anyway," Yumichika replied. "It was pretty disgusting."

A moment later, Ruri'iro Kujaku spoke again. _"Madarame is nearby,"_ he announced. _"Do you feel that?"_

Yumichika felt it: the bitter swirl of Ikkaku's reiatsu. "He's been fighting."

_"Naturally."_ Ruri'iro's voice was filled with rancor. He had come to despise the reiatsu as much as he had come to detest the man. Both were perpetually hostile and filled with loathing.

Yumichika looked back over his shoulder.

Ikkaku was walking down the center of the street, his face and body grimed, his eyes scanning back and forth, as if to claim ownership and cast a challenge.

But no one took him up on it, and he spat once again at the cowardice of the villagers.

Yumichika frowned as Ikkaku walked past him without so much as a nod of acknowledgment. He fell in behind him. "Have you done it again, Ikkaku?" he asked, the sound of a sigh in his voice. "Sooner or later, there isn't going to be anyone left for you to fight here."

"Then we'll just have to go to the next area," Ikkaku replied in a blunt voice that simmered with impatience.

Yumichika raised his eyebrows.

_We._

Ikkaku may have agreed to Yumichika accompanying him, but in every instance when a decision had been made, Ikkaku had referred only to himself. It was always, "I". He'd left it to Yumichika to follow him, but he'd never included him in any of the decisions. The word, "we" never came from his mouth.

Until now.

A gentle smile curled Yumichika's lips.

"You should wipe your face," he suggested. "That isn't beautiful."

Ikkaku wiped his face with his arm and continued walking.

They passed through the entire village without finding anyone else willing to fight Ikkaku_._ Following the road out of town, Yumichika stayed a discreet distance behind him and wondered which village was next on the rounds.

They walked without stopping, without talking for the entire afternoon. As evening began to color the sky in pinks and oranges, they came to the smallest of the clustered villages – little more than a few rows of rough dwellings strung together.

The streets were filled with villagers, more of the abject and morose. It occurred to Yumichika that many of them probably lived in the streets, so meager were their surroundings.

When they entered the village, Ikkaku bellowed, "Is there anyone strong? I want to fight!"

It was a ridiculous question, for it was clear that these villagers were dirt poor and barely scraping an existence out of the land around them. None of them was in a physical condition for fighting.

Perhaps Ikkaku noticed as much, for his next question was more apropos. "Isn't there just one or two people who want to die?"

His words were met with the usual averted eyes, closing of shutters, and dispersement of people from the streets.

Ikkaku made a sound of repugnance. He was already convinced he would find no one here. He'd walked the entire afternoon for nothing.

And then he heard laughter. It sounded like a child's voice, but he followed it anyway.

"Who's that?" he demanded, storming down the street.

Yumichika did not follow him right away. The sound of the laughter had set off a warning chime in his head. He could suddenly sense a presence that seemed to defy the boundaries of a reiatsu, but it was so powerful he was not sure what it was.

He saw Ikkaku turn into an alleyway, and that prompted him to pursue. He had gone only a short distance before a blast of energy hit him like a wall of bricks, and he stopped in his tracks, actually staggering for a moment. He tried to find Ikkaku's reiatsu, but this new sensation was so overwhelming, it was all he could feel.

A few seconds later, Ikkaku sprang backwards out of the alleyway. He shouted something, but Yumichika could not make out the words. A wild grin was on his face, but to Yumichika, it looked false. No, it wasn't false. There was genuine exhilaration there, but also genuine fear in Ikkaku's eyes.

A moment later, the reason for that fear appeared.

From the alleyway came a man unlike any other Yumichika had ever seen. A towering figure, built like a fortress, dressed in rags, his body covered with scars. He carried a jagged sword in one hand.

Here was the source of the incredible power.

Yumichika began to feel physically ill, as if something were oppressing his spirit. There was nothing beautiful or quieting about the man. He was pure, unadulterated violence in bodily form. He wore the same maniacal grin as Ikkaku, but the difference in their strengths was like the difference between night and day. Yumichika wondered that Ikkaku could not sense this. It was foolishness to pick a fight with this man.

As the two men moved out into the street to take up fighting positions opposite each other, Yumichika noticed the villagers gathering to watch the spectacle.

"_Kimi, this isn't a good place to be."_

Yumichika agreed with Ruri'iro Kujaku's assessment, but there was no way he was going to leave. _"I have to stay and make sure he's going to be okay."_

"_This man is going to kill him. There is no contest."_

"_I have to stay."_

Ruri'iro Kujaku did not persist.

Yumichika stood behind Ikkaku, at the head of the crowd of onlookers. He raised a trembling hand to hold the hair out of his face against the wind that had suddenly picked up in the streets.

"Ikkaku . . . " It was both warning and a question.

"Don't help me," Ikkaku said, without looking back at him.

"I know."

Somehow, Yumichika doubted that any of his abilities would even work on a man such as this.

Ikkaku was speaking. "You seem strong."

"Yeah," the man replied.

"I'm strong, too," Ikkaku asserted.

"I'm looking forward to it." There was no mistaking the truth in his words. After a brief pause, he announced, "Here I go."

The attack was so fast and brutal that it broke the ground beneath Ikkaku's feet, putting him at an even greater disadvantage of height. When his opponent could not break his stance through sheer pressure, he began a series of pounding blows that pushed Ikkaku back inch-by-inch until, at last, he managed to leap backwards out of range.

Yumichika's fear now blossomed into panic, but he had control of his wits. He could not go to Ikkaku's aid no matter what happened. Ikkaku would never forgive him for such a humiliation.

"This is a first," Ikkaku announced, licking away a trickle of blood that had run down over his lips from a gash on his forehead. "Ever since I came here, I've never had this much fun!"

Something about those words drove deep into Yumichika's soul and twisted around his heart. Ikkaku was speaking the truth. This _was_ the most fun he'd had since coming to Soul Society. He was the happiest Yumichika had ever seen him – even with the fear. It forced a painful admission upon Yumichika. All the years he and Ikkaku had spent together had not been enough to compare to joy and thrill of this one moment – the moment of encountering someone who was so much like him.

And as he watched them trade blow after blow, he began to feel as if he were seeing something beyond his understanding. There was a bond already being forged that could easily end in death, and yet that seemed to be precisely the desired outcome.

"What is this?" he asked himself under his breath. "I can't see most of their hits . . . "

"Ken-chan is smiling!"

Yumichika turned towards the voice. A child – a little girl – sat atop a barrel beside him. She had pink hair and red cheeks. She wore the smile of an innocent, which in the next instant, turned to a thoughtful sadness. "That's too bad. It's going to end soon."

Horrified, Yumichika turned his attention back to the fight just as the two men paused long enough for Ikkaku's opponent to announce, "That was fun. It's been a while since I enjoyed myself."

It did not escape Yumichika that these words, which Ikkaku himself had used so often to described how he felt when fighting, this time, coming from his adversary, brought an angry grimace to Ikkaku's face. But it was short-lived, for the final pass came quickly.

When it was over, Ikkaku lay face-down on the ground; his sword lay in two pieces beside him.

The crowd dispersed quickly.

Ikkaku had been defeated. Soundly defeated.

Yumichika stood by, waiting for the man and his child companion to leave. He knew Ikkaku was not dead; he could still feel his reiatsu; but he also knew that any offer of help would be spurned, and he did not want a scene in front of the man.

As the man began to leave, with the child clinging to his shoulder, Ikkaku found the strength to accost him one last time. Pushing up on his forearms, he called out, "Wait!"

The man looked back over his shoulder. "What's this? You're still alive?"

"What are you thinking?" Ikkaku demanded. "Why won't you finish me off? You win!"

The man was unimpressed. "I'm not interested in guys who've become unable to fight," he said, as the child peered over his shoulder.

His words rankled Yumichika with their callousness. What kind of horrid man was this that he viewed people as having value only if they could fight? It was sickening.

The man went on. "Anyway, I've got no obligation to finish you off."

Ikkaku was livid. "You've got to be kidding! Are you mocking me? Kill me!"

The child leapt from the man's shoulder as he reached down and grabbed hold of Ikkaku's kosode, pulling him to his knees. "If you like to fight, then don't tell me to kill you! Don't accept a loss and wish for death! Accept that you've lost when you die! If you've lost and you manage to live, that just means that you're lucky. When that happens, just think about surviving."

Ikkaku regarded him with wide-eyed shock. He'd never heard anyone speak this way before, and it touched something inside him in a way nothing ever had – not even Yumichika.

"Survive and think about killing the guy who almost killed you." He paused, drew back and a smile crossed his face. "I didn't hold back when I fought you. You managed to live because you were lucky. Live. Live and try to kill me again."

To Ikkaku, they sounded like the greatest words of wisdom that could ever be offered.

To Yumichika, they were disgraceful, nonsensical, and dangerous. Living for the sole purpose of killing . . . how could such a thing appeal to Ikkaku? And yet, he could see from Ikkaku's expression and feel it in his reiatsu – these were words Ikkaku was taking in.

The child sprang back to her perch, and the two began walking away again.

"Tell me your name!" Ikkaku called out.

The man stopped briefly and looked back. "Kenpachi. Kenpachi of Zaraki!"

And then he was gone.

Yumichika stepped forward and took hold of Ikkaku's arm. "Come on, I'll take you back to the shed, and we'll—"

"Take me to the healer's," Ikkaku cut him off.

"I can look after you," Yumichika replied. "You know I can do just as good as job as any healer."

"I've got something else I need you to do," Ikkaku pressed.

Yumichika looked at him with suspicion and dread. "What?"

"Follow him," Ikkaku replied. "Follow him wherever he goes, and send word back to me."

Yumichika frowned. "Why?" he asked, although he knew the answer.

"I'm going to find him, so I can fight him again. So I can kill him."

Yumichika set his jaw. "No," he said firmly. "I'm not going to help you find that monster, just so you can try to kill him and probably end up getting killed yourself."

"Didn't you hear what he said?" Ikkaku shot back. "Don't you understand what this means?"

Yumichika was unsympathetic. "I heard a lot of nonsense. I won't do it, Ikkaku. I'm going to take you back to the shed and get to work on these injuries, and—"

"Damn it, Yumichika! How the hell do I get through to you? This is important to me!" Ikkaku shouted. "Once—just once, do as I ask you and—"

He never finished the sentence. His injuries and the loss of blood finally caught up with him, and he fainted.

Yumichika sighed in relief. He had absolutely no intention of doing as Ikkaku had demanded, and now, with Ikkaku unconscious, it would give him time to steel his will and think of good arguments to dissuade Ikkaku from what he was sure was a deadly pursuit.

* * *

><p>"<em>Don't accept a loss and wish for death! Accept that you've lost when you die!"<em>

The man's voice came to him over and over again. He knew he was dreaming, but it was as if he were wide awake and reliving that moment.

Kenpachi Zaraki.

A man the likes of which Ikkaku had never even seen before, much less met, much less fought and at whose hands, he been defeated.

"_Survive and think about killing the guy who almost killed you."_

It was brilliant. It was precisely the sort of thing that appealed to Ikkaku.

Unlike Yumichika, who was all gentleness and forgiveness, Zaraki had been about vengeance. Not just vengeance, but survival for the sole purpose of vengeance. Now, that was something Ikkaku could understand. It was something he could appreciate.

"_You managed to live because you were lucky."_

Incredibly lucky. And now he would have a chance to even the score.

He felt something cool against his forehead, but instead of taking comfort from it, it came as an unwelcome nuisance. He did not want to be disturbed from his reverie. But it was persistent, and so at last, he opened his eyes.

"Yumichika."

Yumichika smiled down at him. "Well, at last. You've been unconscious for three days."

Instead of being grateful, Ikkaku was livid. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded.

Yumichika startled at his words. "What am I . . . I'm taking care of you."

Noticing that he was in the lean-to, Ikkaku was ready to rant. "I told you to take me to the healer's and go after Zaraki," he ground out, ignoring the pain in his body.

"I decided not to," Yumichika replied evenly. "I thought it was more important to look after you."

"That means I've lost him! I'll never find him now!"

"Calm down," Yumichika insisted. "You'll hurt yourself." He paused. "It's just as well that he's gone. That man was dangerous. If you were to fight him again, he'd kill you for sure."

"That's not your concern, Yumichika," Ikkaku said accusatively. "All you had to do was follow him and send word back to me."

"How can you say it's not my concern? Do you think I—do you think I don't care whether you live or die?"

Ikkaku shook his head and controlled anger came into his eye. "I knew I should have sent you back to Venla. Why didn't I stand my ground? You can't even do a simple thing that I ask you to do."

Yumichika drew back in anger. "I've been making sure you stay alive—"

"For what? So I can continue going from place to place, picking fights with men who offer me no challenge? So I can stand by and watch you use your tricks and your skills and your—zanpakuto? Do you want to see me spend all my days roaming all over Soul Society looking for some meaning in my life?"

Yumichika was stunned. "Meaning?" he said in a barely a whisper.

"Yes, meaning! Meaning! I finally had meaning! A purpose! But now he's gone, and I'll never find him! Because of you!"

"The—the meaning of your life has become staying alive so you can kill someone? Ikkaku, I can't—"

Ikkaku sat up, pushing aside the pain. He ignored Yumichika completely. "Three days. I still might be able to sense his reiatsu if he's not covering it up."

"Ikkaku—"

Ikkaku held up a finger to silence him. "You're either going to help me find him or you're going back to Venla – or—I don't give a damn where you go. But if you're not going to help me, I don't need you around." He struggled and failed to get to his feet, and through the bandages, blood began seeping to the surface.

Yumichika hardly recognized the man speaking to him. Ikkaku had been harsh with him before; he'd even made him feel unwanted, but there was something different about what was going on now. In Guckoo, Ikkaku had been caught off-guard by Yumichika's sudden appearance, and he had rejected him in order to protect himself. But this time, he was demanding that Yumichika do something he didn't want to in order to maintain their relationship, and Yumichika could tell from his demeanor that he meant every word.

Yumichika was too shocked to do more than nod faintly. "I'll do it, then."

"Do what?" Ikkaku ground out.

"I'll help find Zaraki."

Ikkaku glared at him. "Are you lying?"

"No," Yumichika whispered.

"So, what are you waiting for?"

"You—you want me to leave right now?" Yumichika felt his composure beginning to crack.

Ikkaku did not notice. He was fixated on a single goal. "If you go now, you'll have a good chance of tracking him down. You're good at sensing and tracking reiatsu, and his is overwhelming."

Yumichika was defeated. "Who will take care of you if I leave?" he asked despondently.

"You can take me to the healer's first."

"And you'll stay in the village, so that if I do find him, I know where to find you?"

Ikkaku made a snorting sound. "You always know where to find me, Yumichika."

"Will you stay in the village?" Yumichika asked again, this time with force in his voice.

"I'll stay. Just find him as fast as you can and send word or come back and tell me in person," Ikkaku instructed.

Yumichika said nothing but instead started gathering up the few belongings that he would take with Ikkaku to the healer's.

* * *

><p>"<em>Master, please don't do this."<em>

"I told Ikkaku I would look for him, and so I will."

Ruri'iro's voice was desperate. _"That man is dangerous. Please . . . tell Madarame no."_

"It's too late. I already gave him my word," Yumichika replied. He sounded numb, but it was the only way to keep his grief at bay. He had to put all his energies into his mission or he would end up falling into despair again. "And now, I need your help."

"_My help?"_

"His reiatsu was powerful, but I can't sense it right now. I need you to find him for me, like you found Ikkaku," Yumichika explained.

Ruri'iro Kujaku was silent in disbelief. He didn't even know what to say to such a request.

Yumichika, sensing Ruri'iro's distress, went on.

"All you have to do is find out where he is so I can tell Ikkaku—"

"_No."_ Ruri'iro cut him off, his voice and manner definitive.

Yumichika frowned. "I don't want to argue with you about this. Believe me, I'm not happy about it either, but—"

"_But it's the only way you can hold onto Madarame,"_ Ruri'iro finished the sentence. _"Master, I can't do it. I won't do it. This is wrong. We should just go back to Venla. Please, let's go back to Venla. We were so happy there. Going to look for that monster would be a terrible mistake."_

"But I told Ikkaku—"

"_Don't you understand? I know you felt it. Madarame is enchanted by that man, and—and there's something . . . ,"_ Ruri'iro pleaded but he was not sure how to say what was on his mind.

Yumichika was calm. "If I don't look for Zaraki, he'll never speak to me again."

"_And if you find him, you'll lose Madarame to him,"_ the Kujaku pointed out. _"He'll either die at that man's hands or he'll spend the rest of his life worshipping him."_

"So, no matter what happens, you win. You've wanted Ikkaku out of the picture for a long time. It looks like you're about to get your wish," he shrugged carelessly.

Ruri'iro Kujaku protested vehemently. _"That has nothing to do with this. I don't like that man. I don't like what I sense from him. Kimi, please, tell Madarame that you won't look for him. Let's go back to Venla."_

"I'm not going to do that," Yumichika repeated more imperatively. "I'm going to find Kenpachi Zaraki for him—"

"_And you think that will make him want to keep you around? Master, stop being a fool!"_ Ruri'iro cried. _"He didn't want you around after we found him! Then he only kept you because he was afraid you were hanging around with a hollow and then because he felt guilty about leaving you! Now, he's using you to find Zaraki, and that means he's using me! You're using me! I don't want to do this!"_

Yumichika spoke in an even voice. "So, you won't help me?"

"_I don't want to,"_ Ruri'iro replied.

"Then I won't force you," Yumichika said, knowing that he couldn't have forced him to do it anyway.

"_And then you'll hate me,"_ Ruri'iro stated, _"Master, things are already falling apart between us, and I—I don't want to lose you."_

"You won't lose me," he said. "And you don't have to do anything you don't want to. I'll find him on my own, and I won't be angry with you."

"_Master—"_

"It's alright," Yumichika cut him off. "I'm telling you the truth. I don't want to do this either, so I can't blame you for how you feel." He drew in a deep, steadying breath. "It's time to get started."

* * *

><p>"Send me word as soon as you find out anything," Ikkaku instructed as Yumichika helped settle him into the bed at the healer's.<p>

Yumichika barely nodded. He wanted to make his displeasure with the task clear, but somehow he knew that Ikkaku would not fall prey to any feelings of guilt. Ikkaku's attention and energy were so focused on finding his newest interest that he was completely oblivious to Yumichika's obvious unhappiness. Or, perhaps he was aware, but he simply didn't care at the moment. He had something more fascinating to think about.

Yumichika could have gone back on his word and refused to search for Zaraki, but that would have been the final straw for Ikkaku. It would have opened a rift between them that was unbridgeable. Yumichika considered purposefully not finding Zaraki, but that would never pass muster. Ikkaku would never believe Yumichika was incapable of tracking Zaraki after he'd tracked Ikkaku over hundreds of kilometers from Venla to Guckoo.

And so, on a cold afternoon in November, Yumichika started out on his search.

It was a lonesome departure. Ikkaku had not even had the consideration to bid him safe travels. All he'd cared about was that Yumichika carry out the mission successfully. Ruri'iro Kujaku was silent, offering no assistance; and Yumichika did not ask him for any.

Right away, Yumichika realized how difficult it was going to be to track the man. Despite the overpowering reiatsu the man had emitted during his fight with Ikkaku, there was not a trace of it now. Yumichika's ability to sense reiatsu was considerable, but clearly, the man was adept at hiding his spirit energy. That meant Yumichika was going to have to rely on more conventional means of finding him. By asking questions.

Fortunately, the man was such an anomaly, especially with the pink-haired child accompanying him, that wherever Yumichika inquired, if someone had seen him, there was no second-guessing or questioning whether it had really been him.

Yumichika had had good fortune in the direction he'd chosen at the outset of his search, for people in the first village he had come to had immediately know nof whom he was inquiring and were able to give him enough information to send him on in the likely direction the man had taken. From time to time, he would feel a brief flair of the man's reiatsu, confirming that he was on the right trail.

He kept his word and did not ask Ruri'iro Kujaku even once to help him, but they both suffered for the zanpakuto's recalcitrance. The communication between them was now almost non-existent, and as weeks drew out into months, Yumichika had to struggle not to seek Ruri'iro's help, for he was certain Ruri'iro could sense the man's reiatsu.

And he was correct. Ruri'iro Kujaku _could_ feel the man's reiatsu. He had become attuned to it the first time it had exploded upon his senses. He wished he could block it out in its entirety, but such was not the case. Even so, he was bound and determined not to steer his master in the man's direction, for every part of his being recoiled at the idea of being in the man's presence. His spirit was filled with dread whenever he thought about a future that included such a horrid man.

Yet, that possibility seemed more and more likely as his master drew closer with every day. And then three months after he'd set out, the trail went suddenly cold. The trail had led Yumichika south – back towards Venla – and then west towards long stretches of undulating plains. He had followed the leads to a town at the eastern edge of the plains, and here he was told that the man in question had left only two days earlier on the road heading west.

A day's journey on this road brought Yumichika to a three-way split. And here, he had no idea which way to go. Try as he might, he could not detect the man's reiatsu. There was no clue as to which way the man might have gone.

Yumichika was tempted to call upon Ruri'iro Kujaku, but he refrained. He chose the path leading south.

Ruri'iro knew it was the wrong direction, but he maintained his silence.

After three days of moving at speed step, he came to a tiny village, little more than a watering hole on the way across the plain. And here he got more bad news. No man has passed through meeting Zaraki's description in the past two weeks.

He headed back the way he had come. He tried the northern route to no avail. Even the western route came up empty.

"I don't understand it," Yumichika said out loud, sitting on the edge of a stone trough outside the first way-town on the western road. He was pretending to speak to himself, but he was really trying to prompt Ruri'iro Kujaku to intervene. "Could he have passed through without anyone noticing?"

"_He didn't pass through."_

Yumichika was stunned that Ruri'iro had actually decided to respond. Even though he had opened his senses and his thoughts to the zanpakuto, he hadn't expected a response after so many months of silence. He got quickly to his feet and moved off the road into a small clump of trees, dropped to a sitting position and entered his inner world.

Ruri'iro Kujaku was in the maroon room, looking out beyond the floating mirrors and rotating cages. He did not turn towards Yumichika upon the latter's arrival.

Yumichika did not hesitate. "Do you know where he is?"

"Of course," Ruri'iro Kujaku replied.

Yumichika drew in a deep, steadying breath. "Are you going to tell me?"

"You said you wouldn't ask me to help you," Ruri'iro Kujaku reminded him.

Yumichika remained composed. "You don't have to tell me anything if you still don't want to."

"I don't want to tell you," Ruri'iro said. "I still want nothing to do with that man."

Yumichika sighed. "They why did you speak up? " He was frustrated and tired. He did not want to wander Soul Society for months on end again hunting for someone whom his zanpakuto could easily find. Yet, he would not go against his word by asking the reikon to tell him.

"I know you're angry at me, master," Ruri'iro said. "But I'd rather deal with your anger than have you find that man. I have no good feelings about him."

"I don't have a good feeling either, but—"

"But it's what Madarame wants," Ruri'iro said with a sneer.

"Yes." A pause. "And so it's what I want."

Ruri'iro turned and faced him. "I won't help you find him. I'll only tell you that he did not take any of these roads. He cut across the fields."

"Is that all?" Yumichika asked.

Ruri'iro gave no response.

"So, I should just keep going from town to town?" Yumichika asked.

Ruri'iro knew his master was trying to prey on feelings of guilt, but Ruri'iro had no such feelings. "I would be happy."

"Happy? Happy to see me searching forever?" Yumichika challenged.

"It would be just you and me," Ruri'iro replied. "Yes, I would be happy with that."

Yumichika walked over to him. "Kimi . . . "

"Even though I would be happy with just you, I know you need to be around others," Ruri'iro conceded. "And I would be just as happy to see you with others, but not this man. Zaraki is dangerous, and he's nothing like you. It's hard enough putting up with Madarame, but Zaraki . . . he's filled with a blood lust. He wants only to fight."

"Then he's perfect for Ikkaku," Yumichika put forth.

"But he's not perfect for you," Ruri'iro pressed, "And I don't want any part of reuniting you with him."

"I understand," Yumichika nodded, turning away. "I'll just keep looking."

Before Ruri'iro Kujaku could speak, Yumichika disappeared.

* * *

><p>Yumichika had been gone for five months. Five months!<p>

Ikkaku had stayed in this cluster of villages that he loathed for five months. He never dared go more than a day's journey into the surroundings for fear that Yumichika would return with news and he might miss him.

As the days passed with no word from Yumichika, Ikkaku's already short temper grew even more tenuous. He tried to avoid the populace in order to avoid any confrontations, but he was getting restless to the point where he was going to burst at the seams.

Once or twice he entertained the idea of going off to search on his own, but he knew this was a useless idea. Yumichika's sensitivity to reiatsu was much greater than Ikkaku's, and Yumichika was utterly devoted to him. If Zaraki was to be found, Yumichika was the one to do it, and he would certainly report back to Ikkaku.

But it was a test of Ikkaku's patience, and Ikkaku had to find some way to relieve the tension.

He had gone early on and had his broken sword repaired by the single smithy in the entire area. It hadn't been the best job; but considering the availability of craftsmen, it had been all he could find and so was sufficient for the time-being. After that, he had taken to sparring with himself. He needed to improve his skills dramatically if he ever hoped to defeat Kenpachi Zaraki. He spent hour upon hour working out to increase his strength, running through the open spaces to build his endurance, and practicing his sword skills to a point where he actually began to believe he might just prevail against his sought-after enemy.

Late one afternoon, in the middle of a spar, he was confronted unexpectedly by his conscience, breaking in to disrupt a particularly grueling one-man battle. Only this time, it did not feel like his conscience.

"_You don't really think you can beat him, do you?"_

Ikkaku froze. This voice wasn't his own simply prodding him to thoughtful analysis. This voice had a distinct separateness, and he wasn't even sure if it was inside his head or outside.

"Who's there?" he asked out loud.

"_You're pretty stupid, aren't you, partner?"_

Ikkaku clenched his teeth and tensed his shoulders. "Who are you calling stupid?"

"_You don't even know who I am," _came the reply. _"That makes you stupid."_

"You're getting on my nerves," Ikkaku growled. "Just reveal yourself."

"_I'm right here. I'm not hidden."_

Ikkaku suddenly found himself entertaining the idea of a hollow once more. But he hadn't even said the words when the voice spoke in a reprimand.

"_I'm not a hollow. Tsk! Is that your first explanation for anything you don't understand?"_

"Then what are you?" Ikkaku demanded.

"_I'm in your hand."_

Ikkaku looked down. "The only thing in my hand is my sword."

"_That's right."_

"You're saying that you're my sword? My sword is talking to me?" He burst out into derisive laughter. "I must be losing my mind. Am I that jealous of Yumichika that now I'm imagining my own sword is alive?"

" _You're so hard-headed, a boulder couldn't even knock some sense into you." _The sound of a yawn followed. _"When you're ready to have a real fight with another real enemy, let me know. But not with that man again. You're not strong enough to defeat him."_

"Hold on a minute! You still haven't told me who you are—"

"_Yes, I have. You just refuse to believe me. Eh, you'll figure it out soon enough. There's nothing I can say to convince you, and besides . . . words bore me. When you're ready for action, I'll still be here."_

"Wait, wait, wait!" Ikkaku insisted. "Are you trying to tell me you're a zanpakuto?"

_"You got it, partner."_

"Ha! That's Yumichika's thing, not mine. I don't need anything other than my own abilities," Ikkaku proclaimed.

_"Idiot. I _am_ one of your abilities." _A pause. _"And you should stop being jealous of little pretty. Learn to use me, and you won't have to envy him his own zanpakuto. You two don't even realize it, but me and flashy are all that really holds you together."_

"This is ridiculous. How do you even know about Yumichika's zanpakuto?"

_"Because _I'm_ a zanpakuto."_

"If you know so much, tell me where Yumichika is? Has he found Zaraki yet?" Ikkaku challenged.

An exasperated sigh echoed through his head. _"I don't know where he is. He's out there somewhere. Don't worry about him. He's got all the help he needs."_

"In that case, he'd better not fail." Ikkaku could hardly believe he was arguing with something he wasn't even sure was anything more than a figment of his imagination.

_"Boy, you really are stupid."_


	32. Chapter 32

_**Dear Reader, this chapter contains my two favorite scenes in the entire story. For me, they were heart-breaking scenes to write, but given the rift that exists between Yumichika and Ruri'iro Kujaku by the time the manga starts, it was something I really wanted to put into words. I hope you enjoy.**_

* * *

><p>Chapter 32 Master and Slave<p>

_"Each and every heart it seems  
><em>_Is bounded by a world of dreams.  
><em>_Each and every rising sun  
><em>_Is greeted by a lonely one."_

_The Voice  
><em>Justin Hayward

Yumichika placed a copper on the bar and ordered an ale. As he waited for his drink, he glanced around at the inn's patrons. It was not a bad crowd, but then again, he hadn't expected it to be. The inn was large, well-maintained and an obviously popular stop on the main route over which Yumichika had been travelling for the past two weeks.

Since he'd lost Zaraki's trail, he'd started asking more questions, listening to conversations . . . anything to pick up a clue as to where the man might have passed.

Coming this evening to the inn and seeing it well patronized, he'd taken a room and had a meal in the inn's pub. Now, he was preparing to follow up with a mug of the local brew and set his ear to listening.

He stood at the bar, drawing the usual attention that a man in a flower-pattern kimono would garner, but no one bothered him. He listened to various conversations and was about to go sit at a table when he heard something interesting coming from the far end of the bar.

" . . . a new captain who ended up getting the job by killing the old captain. Can you believe that? So much for the high standards of the Gotei 13, eh?"

Yumichika looked down the bar and saw a stocky man, well-dressed in travelling clothes, the center of attention, telling his story with a confident air.

"So, now, Shinigami are asking to get out of his squad, and I wouldn't blame them. The man is an animal."

Yumichika moved down the bar, closer to the man who had spoken.

"The Gotei 13 are just snobbier versions of the dregs that live in the lower numbers," another man put forth.

"Hey, careful what you say," a third man chuckled. "Some of us used to be those dregs."

The conversation turned to other topics, and Yumichika casually edged his way towards the man who had first drawn his attention.

"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation," he said pleasantly. "A new captain in the Gotei 13, eh?"

The man turned and looked at him with surprise and suspicion, which quickly turned to something more appraising as his eyes scanned up and down Yumichika's body.

"Do I know you?" he asked. He had such surety and confidence in his voice and manner that Yumichika actually felt somewhat intimidated by him. He was also a ruggedly handsome man who was well aware of his attractiveness.

"No, I'm just passing through, and I heard you talking," Yumichika explained. "It was an interesting story."

"What's your interest in the Gotei 13?" the man asked.

"None, really," Yumichika answered. "I just found it fascinating that a man could ascend to power through killing the current captain. That doesn't seem honorable to me."

The man laughed at his listener's apparent naiveté. "What's honorable about the Gotei 13?"

"I can't answer that," Yumichika shrugged. "But I've never heard of anyone becoming a captain in the manner you just described. I wonder . . . what kind of man does such a thing?"

"One who has no qualms about killing," came the reply.

"But where did he come from? Why would he want to be a captain bad enough to kill a man he'd never met?"

A knowing grin spread across the man's face. "What is it you're really after?"

Yumichika had no reason not to be honest. "I'm trying to find out if he's a man that I once met. It sounded like it could be him. Can you tell me more about him?"

The man leaned back with a gleam in his eye. "What's it worth to you?"

Yumichika was placid. "What are you asking?"

"Oh . . . a couple hours seems fair."

It still pained Yumichika somewhat that others' first impression of him was often that of a sexual commodity. He wanted to be seen as beautiful and desirable; but he didn't want to be seen as a whore. After several seconds' consideration, he decided it didn't matter anyway what this man thought. He would use his ability to get the information and then depart. He never had to see him again. With a calm smile, he said provocatively, "A couple hours? I would give you an entire night." He pressed forward, an enticing look in his eye. "And I would leave you breathless."

"Then, what are we waiting for?"

Yumichika swept out his hand. "Lead the way."

The man tossed several coins onto the bar and led Yumichika upstairs to a well-appointed room on the second floor of the inn. It was clearly one of the best rooms they had, attesting to the fact that its occupant was a man of means.

"So, I don't believe in wasting time. We've got some hours to fill, and I want to enjoy every second," the man said directly. "You look like you've got some experience under your belt."

"I know how to make the most of my strengths," he said in a seductive voice, letting the smallest tinge of his reiatsu seep forth.

The man smiled. "So, let me see those strengths. Take your clothes off for me."

Yumichika was somewhat surprised that the man did not appear affected at all by his reiatsu. He released a bit more.

"Wouldn't you rather just tell me what I want to know?" he cooed, taking a few measured steps closer.

"No," the man replied, his own voice and manner brimming with seduction – it was the seduction of the powerful. "I'd rather see you naked. So, take your clothes off."

Yumichika could not explain the attraction he felt, but it was not an unwelcome sensation. He slowly undid the obi at his waist and let the kimono fall to the floor.

The mere exposure of the nubile body was more arousing than his customer had expected. He took a step forward and put out his hand to caress Yumichika's chest as his eyes made a tour of the offering.

"Nice," he said in a breathy voice. He ran his hand down over Yumichika's stomach and tugged at the fundoshi at his hips.

Here, Yumichika put his hand on the man's wrist.

"Payment first."

The man shook his head. "No, an example of what I can expect first."

Yumichika was again surprised at the man's ability to resist him. He released a small bit more of his reiatsu, and this time the man clearly felt the increased allure, stepping closer to press his still fully clothed body against Yumichika's.

"You do have a gift," the man grinned. "I like it."

"If you want me this badly now, imagine what it will be like when I let you really touch me," Yumichika said in a near-whisper. "Now . . . tell me what I want to know."

"Not so fast, beauty," the man deferred. "You said we'd have all night. I intend to take all night, so . . . let's get started."

Yumichika stared at him dumbfounded for a moment. The man clearly felt the erotic energy he was putting off, but he was able to resist him seemingly without effort. How could this be? There was only one possibility. Ruri'iro Kujaku must be interfering in some way. He had no opportunity to even contemplate the possibility before the man had finished the pleasurable job of undressing him and he was fully naked.

The man moved his hands up and down Yumichika's sides – not in the lustful way Yumichika's past lovers had done, but with the confidence of a man who knew what he wanted and how to get it. He needed to play no games. He needed to exert no pressure. When he leaned in to kiss Yumichika, there was nothing possessive or demanding. The man knew he had something Yumichika wanted, and he could afford to extend and savor the encounter.

For Yumichiika, it was not the most distasteful situation he had ever been in. In fact, he was finding it enjoyable. The man was clean. He wasn't brutal. He was clearly skilled. But Yumichika had not wanted to get into sexual activity. Those days were long behind him, but in a matter of seconds he was lying willingly beneath him, both of them now naked, being kissed and caressed.

"_Master, why are you doing this?"_

The unexpected sound of Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice in his mind infuriated him. He had not invited the reikon to interfere upon his thoughts. He'd not permitted him access to his senses from the moment he'd entered the bar. That meant Ruri'iro had been circumventing his defenses without him even knowing it. That was upsetting enough, but on top of that, he knew he wouldn't be in this situation if the zanpakuto had simply told him Zaraki's location. He had been reduced to this because of Ruri'iro's stubborn refusal to help him. He forcefully closed off Ruri'iro's access to his mind.

But this was where the zanpakuto's true superiority of power came into play. He pushed past Yumichika's block.

"_This isn't who you are," _he pressed. _"You left this life behind years ago. Don't do this, master. Please . . . "_

Yumichika ignored him. His anger at the zanpakuto only fueled his actions and made him react to the man's attentions with greater intensity. And as he was certain that Ruri'iro Kujaku was purposefully hampering his ability to seduce the man, he drew encouragement from the idea that it was his own beauty, his own allure – and not any part of Ruri'iro Kujaku – that was at work in the moment.

It was a strange encounter for Yumichika. On one hand, it was repulsive to him. After the rape, the very thought of sexual activity had horrified him for a long time. The only ones he had felt comfortable being close to were Ikkaku and Ruri'iro Kujaku. He'd never imagined it possible that he could end up in this kind of situation; but now, here he was, and he was finding the experience gratifying.

An hour later, he was drenched in sweat, teetering between feelings of elation and feelings of confusion.

Beside him, the man spoke. "You were right. You do make the most of your strengths." He paused and drew in a deep breath. "You're . . . exceptional."

Yumichika rolled up onto his elbow and looked down at him with a smile. "Enough for you to keep your end of the bargain?"

The man reached up and brushed the hair back from Yumichika's face. "You said you'd give me all night. And you'd leave me breathless. I'm still breathing."

For reasons he could not identify, Yumichika found the remarks charming. He gave a small laugh.

The man smiled. "What's your name?"

"Does that matter?" Yumichika asked.

"No, but I thought it would be nice to be able to call you by your name," the man replied.

"It's Yumichika."

"That's an unusual name." He ran a finger along Yumichika's cheek and down his neck. "It has a nice sound to it."

"Your name?"

"Mendalo." He drew Yumichika down to kiss him on the mouth. "You're the most beautiful creature I've ever seen, Yumichika."

This broadened Yumichika's smile.

"And you have a very powerful, very seductive reiatsu."

These words raised Yumichika's eyebrows. "To which you seem to be immune," he said.

"Oh, I'm not immune, believe me," Mendalo admitted emphatically. "I can feel it in every part of my body." He ran his hand over the small of Yumichika's back. "That's why I took you up on your offer for all night. I wanted to see what you could do with all that power." With that, he began again, pulling Yumichika down on top of him.

Yumichika sunk into the moment. Mendalo was a sensitive and attentive lover. Yumichika would have no problem spending the entire night with him, pleasuring him and receiving the same in return. The anticipation of many more hours passed in the same way as the first was enough to make him forget, for the time-being, why he was doing it in the first place.

Yet, for all the thrill he was drawing from the experience, Yumichika could not stop his mind from filling with thoughts of Ikkaku and Ruri'iro Kujaku. This was what he had always wanted with both of them – this kind of closeness, this sort of physical intimacy. And yet, they had both rejected that sort of relationship. Neither of them had wanted him in that way; and even though their motives might be pure—at least, Ruri'iro Kujaku's were—the rejection was something Yumichika had always struggled with.

Now, he had the opportunity to indulge his need to be desired. Ikkaku and Ruri'iro Kujaku be damned. What they would not give him, he had found somewhere else, in the arms of another man. He deserved at least one night of ecstasy for everything the two had put him through.

Now, as he ravished and was ravished by that other man, his thoughts on Ruri'iro Kujaku and Ikkaku and the outrage this would mean for both of them, he was caught completely by surprise when Mendalo took hold of both wrists and pinned his hands beside his head, all the while continuing to run his mouth over Yumichika's body.

When Yumichika tried to break free, Mendalo increased the pressure. "Oh no, you're not getting away," he said.

Yumichika tried again.

Mendalo straddled his waist and sat up, still pressing his wrists down. "Are you going to fight me?"

Yumichika froze. His heart began to race. He saw Mendalo's eyes grow wide, and in the next instant, he was free and Mendalo was helping him sit up.

"What's wrong? Are you alright?" Mendalo asked.

Yumichika could not speak for a moment as he gathered his wits. "I—I can't do that."

"You're shaking," Mendalo stated, his voice filled with worry. "My God, you're terrified."

"I can't do that," Yumichika repeated.

"That's okay—"

"I just—I can't—"

"Yumichika," Mendalo closed his arms around him in a gesture of comfort. "It's alright. We don't have to do that. I thought you—I thought you might like it. You seemed like you would try anything."

After a few minutes, Yumichika appeared to have recollected himself. Mendalo spoke again. "What happened? Did someone do something to you?"

Yumichika shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it. I just—I need to leave." He swung his legs over the side of the bed, but Mendalo's gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"I don't want you to go. I'm sorry about what happened," he apologized. "If I had known what it would do to you, I never would have done it."

"It's not your fault," Yumichika replied. "You had no way of knowing how I would react. I think it's best for me to go." He stood up, and Mendalo did not stop him this time.

"Let me at least give you the information you wanted," Mendalo said as Yumichika walked over to his kimono, still lying where he had dropped it on the floor.

Yumichika turned and looked at him across the fire-lit darkness. "You're still going to tell me?"

"Of course," Mendalo replied. "You've already given me more than the information is worth. It's not like it's any great secret."

Yumichika was not sure whether to believe him or not. With the kimono in hand, he returned to the bed and sat on the edge. "What can you tell me?"

Mendalo looked at him with a certain sadness in his eyes. It was clear that he was unhappy about the opportunity he had lost but that he would not try to push Yumichika to resume.

"I do a regular business in the Seretei. That's why I'm able to handle your reiatsu fairly well. I spend a lot of time around very powerful reiatsus, and I've developed some methods for keeping myself from being too overwhelmed." He paused. "But I get the feeling that, even though what I was feeling from you was powerful, you were holding back a lot."

Yumichika was flattered. "I'm sure even my full power wouldn't compare to what you've experienced in the Seretei. What do you do?"

"I'm a swordsmith.

Yumichika was impressed. "You make swords for the Shinigami?"

"Very often, yes. I just came from there a few days ago—"

"I didn't realize we were that close," Yumichika said, relaxing enough to slide up a bit more onto the bed.

"It's less than two days' journey," Mendalo replied. "While I was there, the captain of 11th Squad was challenged by a complete stranger who killed him and took over command."

"This man who killed the captain . . . what did he look like? Did you see him?" Yumichika asked.

"He was a monster," Mendalo replied. "He was tall as a tree and . . . wild-looking. He had a scar running down his face. His reiatsu was . . . like a bomb, like an explosion."

"Was there anyone with him?"

"That was the strange part. He had a little girl with pink hair . . . she rode on his back. It was a bizarre combination, but he was very gentle towards her. Towards everyone else, he was brutal."

Yumichika knew he had found what he was looking for. The new captain in the Gotei 13 was, indeed, Kenpachi Zaraki.

"How did he become captain? I know you said he defeated the previous captain, but . . . was it a challenge? Is that how things work in the Gotei 13?"

For the next ten minutes, he listened to Mendalo tell the story of Zaraki's ascension to power. The sword-smith had been on the periphery, preferring not to get involved in the inner workings of the Gotei 13. He had gone there at the request of the Head Captain of the 13 Court Guard Squads to fashion some swords and just happened to be there when the events had taken place.

When Mendalo had finished, Yumichika's distaste for Zaraki was reaffirmed. He actually felt torn about whether or not he should tell Ikkaku what he had discovered. If he decided to withhold the truth, Ikkaku would be none the wiser. He wouldn't know that Yumichika was lying to him. If, on the other hand, he told Ikkaku that Zaraki was now a captain in the Gotei 13, it was not a sure thing that Ikkaku would pursue him. Ikkaku had no love for Soul Society or the inhabitants of the Seretei, so he might decide to let it go. But Yumichika could not convince himself that that was even a possibility. No, Ikkaku was fixated on the man. He would go wherever he needed to in order to find Zaraki and even the score.

"Thank you," Yumichika said, sliding across the bed and laying his head against Mendalo's shoulder.

"He's the man you're looking for?" Mendalo asked, tenderly stroking Yumichika's arm.

"Yes."

"Can I ask why?" He paused for a moment then, as if struck by a terrible realization. "He—he's not the reason you were so afraid, is he? Did he hurt you?"

"No," Yumichika replied. "No, I don't even know him except by sight. My friend is looking for him."

"Your friend?" Mendalo sounded surprised.

"Yes."

"Whatever for?"

Yumichika frowned. "That's a good question."

"You don't know?"

"I know the reason he gives, but I don't understand why he feels the way he does," Yumichika said. "I don't agree with it, but I told him I would help find Zaraki."

"He must be a good friend that you would do that for him, even though you don't want to," Mendalo observed.

Yumichika hesitated and drew in a deep breath. "I do a lot of things I don't want to."

Mendalo raised Yumichika's head and looked him in the eye. "I hope this wasn't one of them."

"I would rather have gotten the information without having to do this," Yumichika replied honestly. "But now I'm glad I did . . . I enjoyed it."

"So did I."

Yumichika looked at him and felt grateful for his kindness.

"I did say I'd give you an entire night. It's not morning yet."

Mendalo gave a pleased smile. "Are you sure?"

Yumichika answered with a kiss. He would make good on the promised payment.

* * *

><p>Yumichika left the inn early the next morning after spending one of the most enjoyable nights he'd had in months. Mendalo had made him feel beautiful and wanted in ways he had forgotten existed. There had been no games, no fuss, no pressure.<p>

Until now.

Yumichika had sensed Ruri'iro Kujaku's upset from the moment he'd set foot out the door. No, he'd felt it all night, to own the truth. But he'd ignored it by losing himself in the delight of Mendalo's love-making.

He could ignore it no longer. Ruri'iro Kujaku had been waiting for an opening to give voice to the displeasure his master had only been able to sense; and for that reason, Yumichika was doing his utmost to block him from entering his thoughts. He wasn't in the mood to contend with his zanpakuto's admonishments. He had enough on his mind already.

He had to decide whether or not to tell Ikkaku what he'd found out. He had plenty of time to think about it. Even at the speed step, it would take him at least three weeks to get back to where he'd left Ikkaku. But he chose not to use the speed step – not yet, at least. He first wanted to come to a conclusion about what to do. Then he could hurry his pace.

"_I can't tell him that I didn't find him,"_ he said to himself_. "He'll never believe me. And he'll be furious that I came back without any information. And then he'll go off anyway to look for him. If I tell him about the Gotei 13, I know he'll want to still go after him. And if does that, he'll be killed. I could tell him Zaraki is dead . . . "_ He frowned and sighed his quandary. _"I should just tell him the truth and let him do what he's going to do."_

"_And while you're at it, will you tell him how you got the information?"_

Yumichika grit his teeth and clenched his jaw down on his anger. It was Ruri'iro Kujaku. Once again, he had broken through Yumichika's barrier and burst right in upon his mind.

"Why are you breaking into my thoughts again? Don't you have any respect for my privacy?" he demanded aloud.

"_You won't come to me. You won't allow me into your mind, so I had to do it."_

"I didn't allow you into my thoughts, because I don't want to talk about it—"

Suddenly, his surroundings burst into the vibrant alternate colors of Ruri'iro's world, and the zanpakuto stood before him in swirling waves of intense emotion.

Now, Yumichika was not only angry, but he was somewhat frightened. Ruri'iro was not just overriding the barriers to his thoughts but forcing his way into the outer world without even asking first.

"Of course, you don't want to talk about it, because you know it was wrong," Ruri'iro chastised.

"It's none of your concern—"

"None of my concern? Don't you see what you've done? You're trading your body again – this time for information," Ruri'iro accused.

"If you had just led me to Zaraki, I wouldn't have had to use my body! And if you hadn't interfered with my seductive powers, I could have gotten him to tell me what I wanted to know!" Yumichika shot back.

"I didn't stop you from doing anything," Ruri'iro snarled. "If you couldn't seduce that man, don't blame it on me. And that didn't stop you from rolling around with him like a—"

"You didn't give me your power to help me—"

"Because I don't want you to find Zaraki!" He reached out and took Yumichika by the arms. "Why won't you listen to me? There's nothing good about that man, and the trouble has already started! What you just did . . . master . . . have you forgotten what came from you trading your body—"

"This was one time!" Yumichika shouted, twisting away angrily. He turned and glared at him with the intent to injure. "And I liked it!"

Ruri'iro was speechless.

Yumichika went on. "And maybe if you'd—if you'd loved me the way you've always said you did, I wouldn't have—I wouldn't have done it! But you've always held back! You've led me on and on . . . you won't give me all your power!"

Ruri'iro drew in a deep breath to settle his temper. "You can't handle all my power," he said calmly. "And you can't handle the fullness of my love." A pause. "You don't want it, either. All you care about is Madarame.—so much so that you've forgotten everything that was important to you. You didn't want to have sex with that man, but you did it anyway. And maybe you did end up enjoying it, but I also sensed your fear—"

"For one second!" Yumichika interrupted. "For one second, because he wanted to—he wanted to—"

"I know what he wanted to do—"

"And when he saw what it did to me, he backed off! You—you made me relive the entire thing back in Venla just to try and teach me a lesson!

"Because you refuse to learn from your mistakes! Just like last night!" Ruri'iro cried.

"I did what I had to do!" Yumichika was shaking, he was so angry. "Maybe I didn't want to do it at first, but he was good to me – better than you've been!"

"You were with him _one_ night! He got sex and you got information! Why shouldn't he be good to you? He got what he wanted for very little in return!" Ruri'iro's colors grew more intense. "And you think he's better to you than I am? How can you say something so absurd?"

"He was better to me than you are, because he didn't force himself on me the way you just forced your way into my thoughts and then into this world!" Yumichika ground out. His next words came flowing out in an angry stream, without thought, without consideration. "You won't even make love to me properly, and yet you want me to say I love you! How can I say something I don't mean! You're no different than the men who used me before . . . Fuji Kujaku."

Ruri'iro stood before him, his colors suddenly cold and static. At length, he said in a whisper, "I see." With that, he disappeared and the outer world was restored to its original appearance.

Yumichika was shaking. A maelstrom of anger, fear, sadness and regret was raging inside him. What was he supposed to do? He could not please both Ikkaku and Ruri'iro Kujaku. And he could not continue to try and ride the balance between the two of them. Ikkaku had already shown himself perfectly capable of walking away. Ruri'iro Kujaku was temperamental and possessive. Yumichika could not control him. Immediate events had just proven that truth. It seemed that no matter how strong Yumichika became, the zanpakuto would always be stronger; and this fact stirred up resentment in Yumichika's heart. Still, there was no question but that Ruri'iro Kujaku loved him more than anyone else in Soul Society.

So, the only question that remained was whom did Yumichika love more?

Ruri'iro Kujaku or Ikkaku?

Yumichika already knew the answer.

And he was prepared to live with his decision – no matter how much pain it might cause.

* * *

><p>It was a lonely journey back.<p>

The loneliest days Yumichika had ever known.

Using both a combination of the speed step and regular walking, it took him almost two months to return to the cluster of villages where he had left Ikkaku .

Two months without a word from or to Ruri'iro Kujaku. Yumichika was still too furious to want anything to do with the zanpakuto, and he treated Ruri'iro's sword form with contempt and anger. But even more than anger, he felt sadness. For all the arguments he and Ruri'iro Kujaku had had in the past, there had been something distinctly different about this one. The things they had said to each other had been intended to injure – at least, Yumichika had intended to injure. He'd been indignant that Ruri'iro Kujaku had brought up the past and tried to make him feel guilty.

Yumichika hadn't needed any help to feel guilty. No sooner had he set foot on the path back to Ikkaku than the guilt had begun to creep back in. He had done the one thing he had never wanted to do again – and he had enjoyed it. He had enjoyed it so much that he found himself thinking about it for hours at a time, despite the feelings of guilt. How easy it had been for him to slip back into old habits.

Ruri'iro Kujaku's accusations had been right on the mark, and that had hurt. But even more, it had made Yumichika angry – angry that his zanpakuto seemed to know him better than he knew himself. He had given Ruri'iro way too much power in his life, and now it was too late to turn back.

He would never be able to tame his zanpakuto. He could only live in fear of him.

Now, as he neared the first of the villages, his thoughts were not on Ruri'iro Kujaku. They were not on Mendalo. They were focused solely on Ikkaku and the impending reunion. With each step nearer, he felt his excitement at the prospect of seeing Ikkaku again slowly giving way to apprehension and nervousness.

He passed through the first village, not sensing Ikkaku's reiatsu at all. As he drew closer to the lean-to, he also did not detect his spirit energy. That did not mean much, though: it was early afternoon, and Ikkaku could be anywhere – in any one of the villages. Yumichika decided to hit them one by one. He started north towards the village that lay the furthest out, and here he learned from the villagers that Ikkaku was at the healers. Again. He discovered that Ikkaku had not been idle during his absence. He'd been in and out of the healers more times than the unhappy villagers could recount. Most recently, he had gotten into a fight with some passers-through and ended up needing medical attention.

Yumichika thanked them and headed west towards the one village that was home to the only healer in the entire area. He was not worried about Ikkaku's injuries. After all, he was bringing the best possible medicine.

He entered the room to find Ikkaku sitting up in bed, a bandage wound around his head, shoveling rice into his mouth like coal into an engine.

Given the demeanor of their last parting, Yumichika approached him with cool pleasantness. "I see you've been at it again."

Ikkaku looked up at the sound of Yumichika's voice. "Yumichika. It's about time you got back," he said. "I was starting to think something had happened to you."

Yumichika was surprised by Ikkaku's seeming indifference. He had expected him to be frothing at the mouth for information.

"It's been a while," Yumichika said, leaning Ruri'iro Kujaku against the wall and sitting down on a chair opposite the bed. "How are you?"

Ikkaku's expression was somewhere between a simper and a scowl. It was a stupid question, for he was sure Yumichika could see exactly how he was. He drained the contents of the cup and prepared for disappointment. "So, do you have anything to tell me?" He resumed eating, trying very hard not to appear anxious.

Yumichika was disappointed. Nothing had changed in the seven months he'd been gone. Ikkaku had no interest in anything other than Zaraki's whereabouts. He couldn't even be bothered to say he'd missed Yumichika. And maybe he hadn't. Most likely, he hadn't. He was all business, ready for a report.

But here, Yumichika had the advantage.

"I've heard something you might find interesting," Yumichika replied, followed by a tiny smile, for he knew he was about to make Ikkaku very happy; and he had hope that his announcement might usher him back to a place of importance in Ikkaku's life. "Zaraki has become a captain in the Gotei 13."

Ikkaku spit out the mouthful of rice he had just taken. "The Gotei 13! Are you crazy? There's no way he would join the Gotei 13! Where did you hear that?"

Yumichika related the story in such detail that Ikkaku could not doubt its verity; only he could not overcome his sense of amazement. Zaraki? The Gotei 13? A captain, no less? It was ludicrous.

"The Gotei Thirteen . . ."

"Being a captain is probably the best way for him to get to fight as much as he likes," Yumichika suggested.

"He's going to protect his disgusting world? Him?" Ikkaku wasn't buying it. "No. He's not that sort of guy." He reached over and grabbed his sword.

Yumichika smiled and sighed at the same time. He was unhappy with the situation, but this was exactly what he had expected. He had known Ikkaku would not balk from a journey to visit the Seretei. Even the Gotei 13 would not deter him from finding Zaraki and taking him up on his _wisdom _of a rematch.

He retrieved Ruri'iro Kujaku and slid him through his obi as he got to his feet. "Want to take a look?"

"Of course! I'll track him down anywhere, even if he's in hell." He headed for the door, tossing off the head bandage as he walked.

Yumichika followed him. "I knew you'd say that."

* * *

><p>The sojourn to the Seretei was a horrendous experience for Yumichika.<p>

Hour upon hour, day after day, Ikkaku asked an unending litany of questions.

"Tell me again how he became captain? Did you hear about him fighting anyone else on the way to the Seretei? Why would he want to be in the Gotei 13? What are the ways a man can become captain? Was he already a member of the Gotei 13 when he killed the captain? What about the little girl? Did anyone say anything about her? How did the man who gave you the information know so much?"

Yumichika remained as equable as possible, but with each passing day, he grew more weary of answering the same questions over and over again. Not only that, but he had to be careful not let any secrets slip out, for Ikkaku had inquired more than once, precisely how he had gotten the information and how could he be sure it was genuine?

Yumichika's response that he had overheard some men talking in a bar did not inspire confidence in the report's truth and accuracy. But Ikkaku was willing to accept it. It put him in motion, and that was infinitely preferable to the waiting game he'd been forced to play for the past seven months.

Of course, for Yumichika, each step closer to the Seretei was viewed as one step closer to Ikkaku's death. One way or another, Ikkaku would find a way to fight Zaraki. When that happened, his death was assured. It put the dread into Yumichika's heart, but he could not find a way out of it. He knew of no way to dissuade Ikkaku from his current course.

Six weeks into their journey, when the Seretei was only a matter of weeks away, he decided it was time to broach the subject. It was early morning, and Ikkaku's spirits were high. Now was as good a time as any.

They were descending from a bony ridge of low mountains along a well-worn trail, heading into a broad, lush river valley. Ikkaku was almost jubilant in his bouncy step, unlike the morose mope that had been his hallmark in the months leading up to his first encounter with Zaraki.

Yumichika felt a sting of jealousy, but he pushed it down long enough to ask, "What will we do when we get there? You're not strong enough yet to be able to fight him."

Ikkaku was silent for several seconds. "I'm not going to fight him."

"What?" Yumichika was stunned. He stopped in his tracks. "I thought that was the whole purpose in going after him."

"All that time you were gone, I did a lot of thinking," Ikkaku stated. He noticed Yumichika had stopped walking, and he turned to face him. "I was so set on getting revenge, on doing what he had said – killing the man who couldn't kill me. But when you came back and told me he had become a captain in the Gotei 13, I—I felt like I was given a different chance."

"A chance to do what?" Yumichika asked.

"To become strong like him. To learn from him," Ikkaku replied. "He's the most incredible man I've ever met."

Yumichika felt as if he'd been shot through the heart. Over twenty years of friendship had not measured up to the one moment with Zaraki. It was incomprehensible to him that Ikkaku would rather be with Zaraki than him, but he gave no indication. Ikkaku's announcement opened up a whole new breadth of scenarios. All horrible. These needed attention more than his wounded pride.

"So, what do you intend to do? Join the Gotei 13?" He'd meant the question to show the absurdity of such a proposition. He was not prepared for the response he received.

"Exactly," Ikkaku answered.

Yumichika was too dumbfounded to reply right away. At length he said, "You're not serious, are you? You—you said back at the healer's that this world wasn't worth protecting."

"I'm not joining to protect Soul Society," Ikkaku replied. "I'm joining because he's the only man I would ever want to fight and die for."

"That's ridiculous," Yumichika protested. "You don't even know him. You fought him once. He almost killed you, and now you want to join the Gotei 13 just to serve under him?"

"I don't expect you to understand, Yumichika," Ikkaku replied. "Something about that meeting gave me a . . . a sense of purpose. I want to learn from him. I want to become stronger. I want to show him that I'm worthy to serve under him."

"But why?"

"Because he's strong," Ikkaku said. "Because . . . did you see how much he loved it when we were fighting? He's . . . he's like me." A pause. "And he taught me that . . . it's okay for a man to be lucky. "

"Lucky? What does luck have to do with this? You sure as hell didn't find him because of luck! That was all my doing! I don't—"

"You're right, and if it's true that he's joined the Gotei 13, then I'll have you to thank for finding him."

Yumichika grimaced. "I don't want any credit for it."

A brief silence passed, then Ikkaku said, "What will you do once we get there?"

Yumichika looked up at him abruptly. "What do you mean? I'm going wherever you go."

"Yeah, but you can't join the Gotei 13," Ikkaku said.

"Why not?"

"You're not cut out to be a warrior, Yumichika." Ikkaku's manner was blunt.

"I'm not cut out . . ." Yumichika could hardly believe his ears. "I'm the one who has a zanpakuto!"

"That's true, but that doesn't mean you're meant to be a Shinigami," Ikkaku said, shaking his head. "You'll never be able to convince me otherwise, so let's just face facts."

After all he'd done for Ikkaku, all they'd been through together, this was too much for Yumichika to take.

"What's this all about?" he demanded, the fire starting to burn in his blood. "You know I can fight! You've seen me! You know I'm powerful! So, why are you trying to get rid of me? I found Zaraki for you, and now you just want to leave me behind?"

"I'm not trying to get rid of you, Yumichika," Ikkaku replied, his voice in calm contrast to Yumichika's. "I just don't think the Gotei 13 is the place for you. You wouldn't fit in. You wouldn't like it."

"You're still jealous, aren't you?" Yumichika accused. "You're still jealous because I have a zanpakuto!" He took a step closer. "You know, you won't be able to join the Gotei 13 without one! So, what makes you think you can serve under Zaraki at all? You may never even get into the 13 Court Guard Squads!" He said these things, knowing full well that Ikkaku did, in fact, have a zanpakuto, if Ruri'iro Kujaku were to be trusted.

"I'll get in," Ikkaku said assuredly. "If I have to break every rule, I'll get in." He paused. "But you, Yumichika . . . I think it would be best if you took your zanpakuto and went back to Venla." A strange look crossed his face. "You said your zanpakuto is possessive. Well . . . I think he gets that from you. You can't let go of me."

Now, Yumichika felt the flame of indignation ignite in his heart. How dare Ikkaku imply he was obsessed given the current undertaking. He was about to launch into a tirade about Ikkaku being obsessed with Zaraki, but he thought better of it and held his tongue on the matter, simply stating, "I care about you, and I want to be with you. What's wrong with that?"

Ikkaku gave an exasperated harrumph. "What's wrong with that is that I don't want anything interfering with my ability to join the Gotei 13."

Yumichika knew what was coming next. "Don't tell me that I'm not coming with you."

"I think that would be best—"

"You wouldn't even know where to find Zaraki if it weren't for me!" Yumichika exclaimed.

"Yumichika—"

Yumichika spoke with conviction. "I'm coming with you."

Ikkaku sighed. He wasn't going to win this argument – not at the moment, not in this manner. He needed to find a stall tactic. "That still leaves the question, what are you going to do when we get there?"

Yumichika felt as if he were falling to pieces inside. He said the only thing he could think of. "I . . . I'll go wherever you go."

Ikkaku sighed. "You look like you're about to collapse. We'd better take a rest."

"Ikkaku—"

"No, no. We're done for now. We'll talk more about it later."

* * *

><p>"Ruri'iro Kujaku? Ruri'iro Kujaku!"<p>

Yumichika was desperate. The zanpakuto had not been in the maroon room, nor the cavern nor the shrine nor on the cliffs above the ocean. And Yumichika needed to talk to him. After four months of complete and utter silence between the two of them, Yumichika was abandoning his pride and his stubbornness. He needed help, and the peacock was the only one who could do it.

"I need to talk to you!" he called out frantically. "Come to me! I need to see you!"

There was no response.

Yumichika searched every place he could think of, wondering where the reikon could be that he couldn't find him.

And then it hit him.

He headed back to the cliffs and looked out into the darkness over the sea.

It was the only possibility.

But could he follow? From the first time seeing the ocean, when Ruri'iro Kujaku had told him he was unable to cross it, Yumichika had never attempted it.

He would attempt it now. If Ruri'iro Kujaku were on the other side, this was the only way to get to him.

He directed his mind towards the task and stepped off.

Immediately, he began to fall. A hand suddenly wrapped around his arm and pulled him back, where he fell on his knees. Looking up over his shoulder, he saw Ruri'iro Kujaku. The reikon's face was expressionless.

"Fool," Ruri'iro said. "I told you, you couldn't cross it. You're lucky I caught you before you went below the cliff."

"Why didn't you answer me?" Yumichika asked, completely ignoring what Ruri'iro had said to him.

"I didn't want to. I didn't want to talk to you."

"I need your help," Yumichika said directly.

Ruri'iro Kujaku waited for him to go on.

"Have you—have you been looking out and seeing and hearing all that's gone on?" Yumichika asked.

Ruri'iro Kujaku hesitated before answering. At last, he said, "Yes."

"Then you know he wants to leave me behind—"

"And I agree with him. He doesn't want you to go with him. He doesn't want you to join the Gotei 13. He's only planning to join because of Zaraki, and he doesn't care if you go with him or not. He's found something—someone—more important to him than you."

"I don't care—"

"Well, you should!" Ruri'iro blurted out angrily. "This has gone on long enough! You've had opportunity after opportunity to tell him the truth, and you decided to lie! You'll do anything to keep me hidden from him! If he would despise you because of me, that will tell you a lot about your friendship, such as it is."

Ruri'iro's choice of words angered Yumichika.

"You know nothing about our friendship!" he retorted.

"Ha! I know everything about it!" the zanpakutou shot back. "I know you're infatuated with him, when it should be me! You can't wish me into non-existence. And you can't blame me for being what's happened between you and Madarame! You made your choice – it's the same choice every time! He's not worth it."

"He _is_ worth it! To me! And I don't want to be lectured by you," Yumichika seethed. "You're my zanpakuto! You belong to me! All you have to do is obey me. It doesn't matter if you agree with me or not!"

Ruri'iro stood in fuming silence for a moment.

"Do you understand me?" Yumichika pressed.

Ruri'iro found his voice. He was not going to back down. "Am I nothing more than your slave now? You know I can't leave you, so you choose Madarame every time," Ruri'iro Kujaku explained. "He's left you already, but you follow him like . . . like _his_ slave – a man who's grown comfortable being another man's property. Property that he doesn't even want anymore! He's thrown you away, and you keep coming back!"

Yumichika's entire body felt the insult of this statement. "Why do you have to see it that way? Why are you always competing with Ikkaku for my attention? You don't want to share me with anyone!"

"Share you? I can only share what belongs to me. You don't belong to me. You belong to him! You've always belonged to him!" Ruri'iro snapped back. "And he's horrible to you!"

Yumichika set his jaw. "No, he isn't."

"Yes, he is," Ruri'iro Kujaku insisted, then with a smug, settled air, "And I'm going to tell him."

The air around Ruri'iro began to shimmer, and Yumichika knew immediately what he intended.

"No!" he cried out. "You can't!"

"I can . . . and I will." It would only be a matter of seconds before he manifested in the outside world.

Something inside Yumichika broke loose. A combination of desperate fear and anger. "You will not!" he demanded. "Do as I say! Obey me, Ruri'iro Kujaku!"

The air vibrated and a blinding gold light tore through the inner world, causing Yumichika to shield his eyes. When he opened them again, he thought his eyes were deceiving him.

Before him, Ruri'iro Kujaku stood precisely where he had stood before. Only now, he was visible in perfect clarity and enclosed within one of the golden cages that previously had served as mere adornment.

Yumichika was stunned speechless. What had just happened? He watched as Ruri'iro Kujaku's expression went from one of bafflement to one of horror as he realized he was imprisoned.

The reikon raised his hands and touched the bars as if they might burn him. He cautiously wrapped his fingers around them. They were solid. A quick glance revealed that there was no door. He was trapped.

"What—what did you do?" he asked, looking back at his master. There was no masking the fear in his voice.

Yumichika could not find the words to answer.

"Kimi, what did you do?" Ruri'iro Kujaku's voice rose to a desperate pitch. Once again, the halo surrounding him began to glow and expand; only this time, it could not go beyond the reach of the bars. "Kimi!" he cried out, tightening his grip on the metal until something unseen repelled him, and he was flung against the other side of the cage. His face was panic-stricken now, his eyes wide and dilated, his breathing growing shallow and rapid.

Yumichika had seen such an expression before. He had seen it in caged animals, and that was what he was seeing now. Ruri'iro Kujaku was behaving in much the same manner, growing more agitated and fearful every second. His fear made him wild and vicious, the energy exploding from his body and quickly filling the cage that it could not breach.

"Let me out!" he screamed, once again grabbing the bars and again being repelled, this time more violently. "Kimi! Let me out!"

Even if Yumichika had known how to set him free, he was too terrified at that moment to have done so. What he was seeing in Ruri'iro Kujaku's frantic attempts to escape were the actions of a creature terrified to the point of being dangerous. To set him free could mean disaster.

Yumichika took a step back.

Seeing this, Ruri'iro Kujaku grew even more distressed. "Don't go! Don't go! Let me out, please! Master! Please! I can't—I can't—"

Yumichika could feel his own body shaking. He was flabbergasted at what he was seeing, and even greater was his fear over whether or not the cage was strong enough to hold the energy being expended inside it. He was not going to wait around to find out. He hoped that, like a wild animal, Ruri'iro Kujaku would eventually expend all his energy and then be manageable. And perhaps in that time, Yumichika would be able to find a way to release him from the cage. Either way, he couldn't stay. He could already hear Ikkaku saying his name. Rest time must be over – and not a moment too soon.

He began to return to the outer world, even as the voice of Ruri'iro Kujaku rang in his ears.

"Master! Don't leave me—don't leave me like this! Master!"

* * *

><p>"Yumichika, before we get started again, we need to talk."<p>

"Alright," Yumichika said with a nod, although he was hardly paying attention. His thoughts were back in his inner world with Ruri'iro Kujaku. He could not feel his zanpakuto's presence at all. Not a hint of reiatsu. Nothing. It was if the reikon had ceased to exist. And this was frightening.

"You said it's another two weeks walk to the Seretei," Ikkaku began. "And I know you're bound and determined to go with me. I just want you to think about what it would mean for you if you joined the Gotei 13."

"It would mean staying with you," he said.

"Yumichika, the purpose of your life can't be to stay with me," Ikkaku frowned.

"Why not? The purpose of your life is to find and stay with Zaraki," Yumcihika challenged, adding petulantly, "Do we really need to talk about this now?"

"Yes," Ikkaku insisted. "Yumichika . . . this is the point where we both have to decide."

Yumichika turned his attention from thoughts of Ruri'iro Kujaku long enough to ask pointedly, "Decide what?"

"What you're going to do."

Yumichika almost sneered. "I told you what I'm going to do. I'm going with you. If you join the Gotei 13, so will I."

"That's stupid—"

"It's not stupid. You asked if I've thought about what joining the Gotei 13 would mean for me. Have you thought about what it would mean _for you_?" Yumichika replied. "You've never been disciplined. You're not one to take orders or do what you're told. You'd be around people who would present you the greatest challenges you've ever known, and you wouldn't be able to take them up on it. The temptation to fight will be too great. You'll never make it, Ikkaku."

"If it means I can fight under Zaraki, I'll make it," Ikkaku replied with certainty.

"You won't even make it through Soul Reaper Academy—"

"Soul Reaper what? Academy? What kind of bullshit is that?"

Yumichika looked at him as if his ignorance just proved the point. "To be a soul reaper, you have to graduate from Soul Reaper Academy. How are you ever going to manage that? You've probably never even been in an academic environment."

"But Zaraki didn't go through any academy," Ikkaku pointed out. "You said he became a captain by killing the previous captain, and that he was a civilian when he made the challenge."

"Yes, but—"

"So, that's just proof of how strong he is. They made him a captain straight off the street! And if Zaraki can do it to become a captain, I can do it to get into his squad." He made a chopping motion with his hand. "But that's not what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to make you see what would happen if _you_ joined the Gotei 13."

"I'll do just fine," Yumcihika assured him curtly. "I already have a zanpakuto, and I know how to use him—" This was certainly questionable. "So I probably stand a better chance of getting in than you do."

"Yumichika, just having a zanpakuto doesn't make you a good fighter—"

"Now, you're going to tell me I'm not a good fighter? No matter what I say, you're going to keep coming up with reasons why I shouldn't join."

"That's not true, Yumichika," Ikkaku replied. "I know I won't be able to change your mind. I just want you to think about what it would mean if you became a Shinigami. All those things you said about me might be true, but I can overcome them. I always have. But you'd have to become an entirely different person."

"What do you mean?"

"Yumichika, I could tell you that you're too gentle, too sensitive; but you wouldn't listen anyway. You've made up your mind, and now you've got two weeks to think about it, to decide if you really want to become someone else," Ikkaku posed.

"I'll do whatever I have to do," Yumichika replied. "If I have the skill, I'll be a Shinigami." He paused. "But I think _you_ might be jumping too far ahead in assuming that _you_ will become a Shinigami."

Ikkaku said nothing. What words were necessary? Yumichika could come with him, but Ikkaku felt certain he would never pass muster to become a Shinigami. When that happened, he would be barred from the Seretei.

Problem solved.

It didn't make Ikkaku happy to think that way, but it was nothing more than the truth.

They began walking again, and Ikkaku initiated conversation on a different topic – a practical matter.

"We have to figure out how we'll we get inside. I've heard they make it pretty hard to get in there. Still, I figure—what's the matter with you? Are you even listening to me?"

Yumichika looked up at him. "I'm listening," he replied. What he didn't add was that he wasn't paying any attention to his words anymore. His mind was back in his inner world.

"I hope so, cause you're going to have to come up with a way to get in there," Ikkaku announced.

"Me? What about you? You could just fight your way in, and I'll . . . follow you." He almost choked on the words as Ruri'iro Kujaku's accusation echoed in his mind.

"_You follow him like his slave."_

"Yeah, but that's probably not the best way to do it," Ikkaku replied. "We need something tricky."

"We could apply for the Soul Reaper Academy—"

"Hell no!" Ikkaku refused right away. "I'm not going to sit around and let a bunch of professors try to teach me how to fight. If Zaraki got into the Gotei 13 using his guts and his physical strength, then that's how I'm going to do it."

Yumichika said nothing more. He was too busy wondering what was going on in his inner world.

And he was almost too terrified to find out.

* * *

><p>They traveled late into the night until Ikkaku scouted out a barn in the middle of a field, empty of everything except mice and owls and burrowing creatures.<p>

"Tomorrow we need to find something to eat," he stated, finding a place in the old, musty straw of one corner. "I'll take first watch. You still look beat."

Yumichika did not waste a moment before lying down and closing his eyes.

With both great trepidation and burning anxiousness, he retreated to his inner world.

As always, he entered through the maroon room. Everything was quiet and still. Even here, Ruri'iro Kujaku's reiatsu was conspicuously absent. He moved slowly beyond the room in a direction that his senses told him was correct. After a little more than a minute, he could see the cage. It had drifted, as the cages did; but it still contained its prisoner.

Ruri'iro Kujaku sat hunched with his back against the bars, the long feathers of his raiment trailing between them and down below the base of the cage. He was facing away from Yumichika at the moment, but his shoulders moved in an uneven, jumpy manner that conveyed, at the very least, emotional distress; at the worst, physical trouble.

Yumichika immediately felt awful, and fear was only a part of it.

He alit a dozen paces from the cage.

"Ruri'iro Kujaku?" he said quietly. He saw a slight movement of the reikon's head, but there was no attempt to acknowledge or face him.

Emboldened by the lack of hostility, but still cautious, he approached the cage. He reached through the bars to touch Ruri'iro's shoulder, and the cage began to slowly dissipate and the veil of light obscured the reikon's body once again. Clarity was gone.

As the cage vanished, Yumichika could once again feel his zanpakuto's reiatsu, and this came as both a relief and a source of anxiety.

Ruri'iro Kujaku did not move until the cage was completely gone, then he stood up and floated to the ground. Without even looking at Yumichika, he began to walk away.

"Kimi, wait!" Yumichika called out.

Ruri'iro Kujaku stopped.

"I don't know what happened," Yumichika said plaintively. "I'm sorry. Please, believe me."

Ruri'iro Kujaku still would not face him. His voice was more pain-filled than Yumichika had ever heard. "How could you do that to me? You put me in a . . . in a cage."

"I didn't mean to," Yumichika told him. "It just happened."

"In a cage . . . like an animal," Ruri'iro went on.

"I'm sorry!" Yumichika was desperate. "Please, believe me, I didn't mean to do it!"

"You must have wanted it on some level, because you made it happen," Ruri'iro Kujaku stated, his voice dull and subdued. "You told me to obey you, and then . . . and then I was trapped in a cage. You wanted to restrain me—"

"I didn't want you to show yourself to Ikkaku," Yumichika explained hastily. "You weren't listening to me, and—and you know I can't stop you from doing anything you want—"

"You can now. You've found a way to control me." Ruri'iro Kujaku paused, and at last he turned to face his master. "A way I didn't know existed."

"But I told you, I don't know what happened! I didn't do it on purpose, but I swear to you—I swear I'll never do it again."

The kujaku turned away. "How can you say that when you don't even know what you did to make it happen?"

Yumichika frowned. Ruri'iro had a point. "I don't know," he answered. "I'll just—I won't let myself feel that way again—"

"You can't guarantee that," the reikon stated. He paused for a long moment. At last, when he spoke, his voice was shaking. "Kimi . . . I can't—I can't bear such a thing again. It will drive me mad." His voice broke, but he quickly regained control. "And I—I don't understand—I don't understand why you feel such a way as to—as to trammel me. But . . . "

"Kimi—"

"You have a power that I can't counter," he went on. "But it's not that which scares me. It's that you don't . . . you don't seem to want me anymore. You're ashamed of me. You're ashamed of me because my power is kido. You would have revealed me to Madarame by now if I were a physical combat zanpakuto. But you're embarrassed by me, and so you've found a way to keep me hidden. I had no way to overcome what you just did to me. And I . . . I . . . I can't go through that again. Even when you didn't want me outside, here in my world, I always had freedom. This was the last place where I could do as I pleased. But now . . . if that's taken away from me, then . . . then I really am a slave. And I can't live as a slave."

"You're not my slave," Yumichika insisted passionately. "I never think of you in that way. I'm sorry about what happened. I told you, I didn't do it on purpose. But sometimes, you get so . . . I just . . . I need you to obey me."

"I've never disobeyed you—"

"You were about to. You were about to reveal yourself to Ikkaku, and you would have gone through with it," Yumichika stated. "Don't tell me you wouldn't have."

Ruri'iro faced him squarely, with no hint of contrition. "You're right. I wanted him to know about me. He's taken you away from me, and I want him to—I want him to just go away."

Yumichika sighed. "That's not going to happen."

"I know. And now you're going to join the Gotei 13," Ruri'iro lamented.

"If Ikkaku gets in, so will I," Yumichika replied assuredly.

"I know that," Ruri'iro replied. "You've grown very skilled." He paused. "But will you continue to hide me then? A Shinigami who hides the true nature of his zanpakuto will never be able to rise to levels of greatness."

Yumichika shook his head. "I don't care about being great or more powerful. I only want to stay with Ikkaku."

"Then the decision is made," Ruri'iro Kujaku said with a measure of finality in his voice. "As you said, all I have to do is obey you. And so I will. Master."

* * *

><p><em><strong>So, my favorite scene is where Yumichika imprisons Ruri'iro Kujaku and later releases him. The panic Ruri'iro feels, followed by the realization that his freedom is really only an illusion and completely in the hands of Yumichika, is meant to help set the stage for the relationship we see in the manga.<strong>_


	33. Chapter 33

Dear Reader, This is the final chapter in part I. I am going on a little vacation until mid-August, and then I will begin part II, which will focus on our heroes adventures as members of the Gotei 13. In this chapter, I take some creative liberty with Ruri'iro Kujaku and Hoozukimaru; but I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading and see you in about a month! Peace, love and good vibes. The Kujaku

Chapter 33 The Seireitei

_"Now as we drift a little further from the shore,  
><em>_like the sea evermore,  
><em>_I'm the ivy that clings round your door."_

_When You Wake Up  
><em>_John Lodge and Justin Hayward_

* * *

><p>Even if he hadn't been told they were getting close to the Seireitei, Ikkaku would have been able to guess as much, based on the increased number of Shinigami they were encountering: sometimes as many as a dozen a day.<p>

And every time he saw one of the black-clad figures, his stomach and his fists clenched into knots. He hated them. How he hated them! Their sense of superiority. Their overblown assessment of their own skills. Their stuffy way of looking down at the souls they were sworn to protect. Unh! He despised them!

It was only the fact that Kenpachi Zaraki was one of them that prevented Ikkaku from turning and retreating back to the lower numbers from which he had come.

On a couple of occasions, he'd had the audacity to inquire of some of the Shinigami which squad they were in, but none of them was in squad 11. In fact, if Ikkaku made any mention of squad 11, the reaction from the Shinigami was always the same – a sort of sneering distaste overlaying a grudging admiration.

"They're disgusting, but man, can they fight."

"Barbarians, but there's no other squad I'd rather have beside me in battle."

"Their captain is nothing less than a demon, and he knows how to inspire his men."

"Eleventh Squad used to be just another squad, but now they're easily the best combat squad. They're not afraid of anything."

Accounts such as these thrilled Ikkaku. A disgusting clutch of barbarians who knew how to fight and were considered the best at it. How much better could it be? He could not wait to step foot inside the vaunted walls and surprise the man who hadn't been able to kill him.

For Yumichika, on the other hand, his dread grew every day, every footstep closer they drew to the Seireitei. He was moving ever nearer to becoming part of a group of brutal hotheads, and he was quite certain there would be no beauty among them. In fact, he was anticipating a dearth of beauty, a complete absence of finesse and grace. He felt as if he were being led to a living death. But even that would be better than life without Ikkaku.

When they were a good two days' journey from the Seireitei, Ikkaku decided to take a break. Not surprisingly, Yumichika had not come up with any ideas to get into the Seireitei—he'd not even tried; and so that task now fell to Ikkaku. He had an idea, but he needed a little time to flesh it out. It would take Yumichika's cooperation, and that was not a sure thing at the moment.

That morning Ikkaku had gone into one of the larger towns outside the Seireitei to do some reconnaissance. Yumichika had no interest in going with him and instead had gone to a spot half a kilometer outside the town where the tiny River Huhne passed over pebbly shallows in a sundrenched water meadow.

He was filthy – by his standards – and anxious to clean off two days of non-stop travel. The morning was already bright and heating up, and the water in the shallows was warm and clear. It only came up to his knees as he waded in, but he could lie down and float on his back, the current carrying him slowly downstream.

It was refreshing. Perhaps when Ikkaku met him here after his mission in the town, he could convince him to take a dip. Ikkaku would have gone for weeks on end without a single wash if left to himself. It was almost as if Ikkaku were purposefully regressing to the level of a brute in anticipation of joining Zaraki's squad.

Still, Yumichika did the best he could to trick Ikkaku into moments of cleanliness, and thus far he'd been fairly successful. Truth be told, Ikkaku was too consumed with thoughts of Zaraki to put up much of a fight when Yumichika used artifice to coax him towards cleanliness. Ikkaku also knew he would need Yumichika to get into the Seireitei, and so he was careful not to do anything to vex him – and since Yumichika held beauty and hygiene in great regard, Ikkaku swallowed down his irritation and gave in to Yumichika's ploys.

Now, as Yumichika floated in the languid water, he found himself facing the unpleasant fact that in a few days, it would all be over. In a few days, both he and Ikkaku would be Shinigami, subject to all the restrictions that came with the title. They would be in Kenpachi Zaraki's squad, subject to all the vile boorishness that came with that assignment. They would be members of an elite class, subject to all the expectations and jealousies that came with such an elevation in position.

He didn't want any of it. He wanted to return Venla and the life he had known in the mountains above the tiny village. He wanted to return to a time before Ikkaku's father. Before Guckoo. Before the rift with Ruri'iro Kujaku.

But he knew that it was all wishful thinking. That part of his life was over. A new part was about to begin.

And if he wanted to stay with Ikkaku, if he wanted to make it as part of Zaraki's squad, if he wanted to fit into the role of Soul Reaper, he was going to have to leave all of the past behind. More than that, he was going to do as Ikkaku had said and become a different person altogether.

But it had not been Ikkaku's words that had convinced him of that fact. No, it had been Zaraki himself.

"_I'm not interested in guys who've become unable to fight."_

That encapsulated everything Yumichika had sensed from the man. Zaraki's only interest was in fighting – and fighting those who posed a challenge to him. Once a man was unable or unwilling to fight, Zaraki lost interest.

Yumichika could not be that man in whom Zaraki lost interest. He would have to show a zeal for combat, a hunger for battle. He would have to relish physical confrontation and excel at it. He would have to become as brutal and cold as the man himself.

And yet, he would have to preserve his beauty in the process. That was the one thing which he would not compromise. Therefore, he would have to become a beautiful, merciless fighting machine.

If he didn't, then he would no longer have a place in Ikkaku's life.

And to be a fighting machine of the caliber that Zaraki would demand, he would need Ruri'iro Kujaku's abilities. Or at least his obedience. And here, his thoughts became almost maudlin.

He had gone to his inner world at least a half dozen times since that horrible day; and not once had Ruri'iro Kujaku been waiting for him in the maroon room. He'd not had the courage to summon him. He had only entered his inner world for the sole purpose of trying to make some sort of amends with the injured zanpakuto, but he knew that anything he was willing to offer would not be sufficient. No matter what, Ruri'iro Kujaku was going to lose a great deal of his freedom. It was unavoidable.

But the ghastly imprisonment . . . that could be avoided. Yumichika would do everything in his power to never subject the reikon to such a devastating confinement again. His best efforts might not be enough to prevent it, but he had to try. The look of panic on Ruri'iro Kujaku's face was something he could not forget. Until that moment, it had been unimaginable. Every other time Yumichika had seen him clearly, his face had shone forth with only joy and pleasure. That such beautiful features could be contorted into such a frenzied knot of fear . . .

Events had revealed the undeniable truth about the existence of the cages. They had been a mystery for 25 years, nothing more than beautiful decoration in a dream-like world. But not so anymore. Their purpose was slowly taking shape in Yumichika's mind.

In giving life to Ruri'iro Kujaku, Yumichika was now dealing with a power that knew no limits. A power that was prone to the vagaries of a quirky personality. The only thing that had kept Ruri'iro Kujaku obedient to his master up to that point had been his devotion and commitment to fulfilling his master's every wish. But as their relationship had deteriorated, so had the peacock's sense of obligation. Emotional creature that he was, he'd finally been pushed to a point where his pride could no longer tolerate the indignity of being hidden and dismissed; and his self-righteousness had threatened the secret his master was carrying.

The only one capable of countering Ruri'iro Kujaku's spirit energy was Ruri'iro Kujaku. In the creation of his inner world, somehow, in some way beyond Yumichika's understanding, a failsafe had been built in. The cages, reflections of Ruri'iro Kujaku's own stunning perfection and strength, existed for the sole purpose of subduing that strength, putting a check on that perfection.

They were there to stop the zankaputo from acting against his master's will. They were a creation born of the same beauty that had begat Ruri'iro Kujaku, but they were available only to Yumichika for use against the very one whose existence had necessitated their creation.

Yumichika had no idea how to use them. He did not want to know how to use them. In fact, he hated the sight of them now. And yet . . . he knew deep down that they were necessary. Every power needed some sort of check. Including Ruri'iro Kujaku.

"Hey! Yumichika! Hey!"

The sound of Ikkaku's voice drew Yumichika abruptly out of his thoughts. With a splash, he moved to stand up, discovering that he had floated so far downstream that the water was now quite deep, and he had to swim to the bank.

Ikkaku met him as he came out of the water. He had Yumcihika's clothes in one hand and in the other, a bundle of black and white material.

"What's that?" Yumichika asked, putting his kimono on over his wet body.

"This is my plan," Ikkaku replied with a sly curl of his lips.

And although he feared he already knew the answer, Yumichika asked, "What's your plan?"

"You can make us Shinigami uniforms, and we'll be able to waltz right in," Ikkaku stated.

Yumichika looked at him in disbelief. "You think a couple of uniforms will be enough to get inside?"

"No," Ikkaku replied. "But I think a couple uniforms along with your ability will be enough."

"What?" Yumichika was stunned.

"And if that fails, you can always show them your zanpakuto. That should be proof enough, right?" Ikkaku went on.

"I—I—I . . . I don't even know where to begin, this idea is so . . . bad," Yumichika stammered.

"What's bad about it?" Ikkaku challenged. "You can easily make us uniforms. We'll look the part. And if we run into any trouble, all you have to do is release a little of your reiatsu, and we're in."

"Ikkaku, these are Shinigami. My reiatsu won't even touch them," Yumichika protested, even though he did not believe his words. In fact, he felt quite the opposite. He was sure he could prevail if he released enough reiatsu. But still, the truth was that he did not want to find a way into the Seireitei.

"That's bullshit," Ikkaku discarded. "Your reiatsu is more powerful than most of what I've felt from these Shinigami we've seen out here—"

"That's probably because they suppress it when they're out among these people," Yumichika countered.

"Maybe they do," Ikkaku shrugged. "But it doesn't matter. Yumichika, you know how strong your reiatsu is. It's our best chance of getting inside."

"What if it doesn't work?"

"It will." Ikkaku pushed the material into Yumichika's hands. "Now, let's find a place where you can get started."

Yumichika sulked. "I don't have any needles or—"

"Already taken care of," Ikkaku interrupted, lifting up the top layer of material to reveal a small sewing kit.

"How did you get all this?" Yumichika asked.

Ikkaku simpered. "Do you need to ask?"

"No," Yumichika sighed. He was grasping at straws. "This—this isn't even the right material. It won't—"

"It will do," Ikkaku insisted.

"I guess so," Yumichika replied. He found a place near the stream where the light was good but not too bright and sat down to begin his task.

"Do you think you could at least bring me something to drink while I'm working?" he asked.

"There's a whole river full of water right there," Ikkaku replied.

Yumichika's ire rose, but instead of his usual docile giving-in, he decided now was as good a time as any to start inculcating the Zaraki mindset. If he was going to have to change, he could begin at this moment.

"If you want this done, you'll go find me something with a bit more kick to it than water," he said.

Ikkaku hesitated only a second, then a smile crept into his features. "I'll be back soon."

"While you're at it, you forgot material for the obi's," Yumichika pointed out.

Ikkaku only smiled.

* * *

><p>So, that was what terror felt like.<p>

He had never felt such panic before. Not when his master had been attacked. Not in the flume. Never.

And he could not get it out of his mind. His beloved master had inflicted upon him the worst kind of punishment imaginable, and now the fear of a recurrence haunted him to the point where he had no peace.

His master.

He no longer knew how he felt about Yumichika. Through all the previous trials, his love had never wavered. He had chalked up his master's thoughtless behavior to immaturity and a lack of confidence. This time he was not as forgiving. Anger was easier to overcome than fear. And what he felt now in waves that threatened to overpower him was fear.

He'd felt his master enter the inner world several times, but he'd remained hidden on the far side of the sea, out of reach physically and praying that he would not be called upon to release in the outside world. For to disobey such a command would be impossible, and yet releasing was the last thing he wanted to do. Perhaps not the last. Seeing his master face-to-face held that distinction. But his master had not called out to him, had not demanded his presence. And so he had managed to avoid the dreadful encounter. Still, it was just as painful that his master did not care enough about him to at least try and coax him out of hiding.

"Flashy! Flashy?"

The sound of Hoozukimaru's voice grabbed hold of him, and he held on as if it were a lifeline.

The voice was echoing and distant. It was coming from the opposite side of the sea. Ruri'iro's instinct was to head towards the voice, but going back across the sea might mean an unexpected and unwanted encounter with his master.

"Ruri'iro Kujaku?" Hoozukimaru sounded anxious.

He would take the chance. He soared back across the sea, dark and choppy below him, but coming to the far side, he was baffled. There were several of the floating mirrors, but Hoozukimaru's image was not to be found in any one of them.

"Where are you?" Ruri'iro called out.

"I don't know. This is your world."

Ruri'iro continued to search. "Can't you see what it looks like on my side of the mirror?"

"There's a lake . . . inside a cave."

Ruri'iro headed for the cave of the peacocks, but upon entering he was confounded once again. Not a glimpse of Hoozukimaru in any of the mirrors in sight. He knew of no other underground lake.

"I don't get it," he said, perplexed. "I don't know where you could be."

"Really? I know exactly where you are."

Ruri'iro turned slowly, his eyes growing wide in awe.

Hoozukimaru stood there, bodily, before him.

Ruri'iro Kujaku was speechless, not only because of Hoozukimaru's unexpected presence but because of the raw beauty there in front of his eyes. What Ruri'iro had seen in the mirror had not prepared him for what he was now facing.

Hoozukimaru was a mountain of brute strength, his appearance even more imposing in person. The red-brown coat of fur that covered much of his body did nothing to lessen the appearance of taut muscles. The hazel eyes had an intensity that had not been able to reach through the mirror. But more than anything else, Hoozukimaru oozed with masculine power.

"You have nothing to say?" Hoozukimaru prodded.

Ruri'iro Kijaku stammered a few incomprehensible syllables.

Hoozukimaru grinned. "You –at a loss for words. That's pretty incredible."

At last, Ruri'iro shook off his dumbfounded amazement. "How—how is this possible?"

"I came through the pool," Hoozukimaru replied. "I just dove in and when I came up, it was here, in this water."

"You . . . came through the water? But how? How can you be in my world? How can—"

"I was worried about you," Hoozukimaru cut in.

Ruri'iro felt a warmth challenge the coldness that had plagued his body over the past two weeks. "Why?"

"Because something strange happened. Your reiatsu vanished – completely. It was as if you'd ceased to exist. I can always sense your reiatsu—and I gotta admit, I like the way it feels; so when it suddenly was gone, I was worried something had happened to you," he explained. "But then it came back. After two weeks without a word from you, I tried to find a way to reach you, but I couldn't. So I decided to take a chance and see what would happen if I dove into the pool." A pause. "So, what happened? Why did your reiatsu disappear like that?"

Instead of answering, Ruri'iro Kujaku crossed the few paces between them. He carefully leaned into Hoozukimaru's chest and circled his arms around his waist.

Hoozukimaru's first reaction was surprise. His gut instinct was to push away any sort of affectionate display. But then he realized it was not affection – although there was certainly an element of it present. No, it was a desperate bid for consolation. Something had gone terribly wrong, and now that the initial shock of seeing Hoozukimaru in his world had passed, the peacock could not stop the grief from pouring out of him.

In any other being, including his master, Hoozukimaru would have viewed such an exhibition of sadness as a terrible weakness. But not with Ruri'iro Kujaku. On the Kujaku sadness—even tears—was beautiful.

He returned the embrace, marveling at the power that emanated from the much smaller body in his arms. Through the mirror, he'd not been able to see that Ruri'iro Kujaku's body had normal human dimensions, and finding that to be the case now, he felt like a giant beside him. Still, he had no concerns about the difference in their sizes, for it was plain that there was no physical flaw in the peacock's body and no lack of spirit energy.

After a minute or two, he asked, "So, are you going to just stand here sniffing and pouting all day, or are you going to tell me what happened?"

"It's too humiliating . . . "

"So, what's a little humiliation? Just tell me," Hoozukimaru prompted.

After several false starts, Ruri'iro Kujaku managed to come forth with the fact. "He imprisoned me."

"Imprisoned you? Little pretty? Why would he do that? How could he do that?" Hoozukimaru could hardly believe such an account.

"Because I was going to tell Madarame about me," Ruri'iro admitted. "I was going to manifest in the outside world and show myself to him and tell him about my power." He drew in a shaking breath. "My master got angry at me and suddenly . . . there was a flash of light, and then . . . and then I found myself locked away in one of the cages that floats through this world." His fingers curled tighter into the mat of Hoozukimaru's fur. "I couldn't get out. My power couldn't get out. The harder I tried, the stronger the bars became until I couldn't touch them. And then . . . he left me. He left me there, trapped . . . my master left me."

A few seconds passed, then Hoozukimaru said, "Wow, you must have really made him angry."

"Maybe," Ruri'iro conceded. "But he made me angry, too."

"Well, yeah, I can see how you'd be angry, but it's not worth causing such a ruckus, is it?"

Ruri'iro sighed. "You think it's my fault?"

"Some of it, yeah," Hoozukimaru replied. "I mean, he's your master. You gotta do what he tells you." He put his ample hands on Ruri'iro Kujaku's shoulders and set him at arm's length. "You just want the whole world to see how beautiful you are. That's why you don't want to remain hidden."

Ruri'iro regarded him gratefully. "It isn't just about being seen. It's about using my power. My master won't use my full shikai because of this whole kido thing. He puts his life in danger every time he refuses to use me. And then he . . . he uses that disgusting, humiliating name to limit me."

"Eh, you do that to yourself, flashy," Hoozukimaru pointed out.

"What do you mean?"

"You could release fully if you wanted to. But you're so stubborn and indignant that you refuse," Hoozukimaru replied.

"That's not true," Ruri'iro protested. "There's only one true release command. My master has made up another one that limits me—"

"Because you allow it."

Ruri'iro Kujaku was silent for a moment. At last, he lamented, "Either way, it doesn't matter. He's found a new way to keep me hidden, and I can't overcome it." He paused and a pain-filled sadness filled his eyes. "I . . . I hate him for it."

"Hate him? That's ridiculous. You love little pretty so much it makes me sick," Hoozukimaru grinned. "That's why you're so hurt by what's happened."

"Is it possible to love and hate someone at the same time?" Ruri'iro asked.

"I don't know. I guess so." Hoozukimaru leaned close and regarded him with intensity. "But that doesn't matter. If you think he's earned your obedience, then you should give it to him. That way, you won't have to worry about ending up in a cage again." A pause. "And you need to decide now, because in a few days, they're going into the Seireitei and your master may become a Shinigami. We'll have a whole new crop of crap to put up with."

Ruri'iro Kujkau smiled once again. Hoozukimaru may have claimed that words were not his thing, but he certainly had a way with them. "I don't understand it," the peacock said with a fond gleam in his eye.

"What?"

"You and I are so different—"

"Yeah, yeah. You're all beauty and finesse and sophistication and I'm a brute," Hoozukimaru interrupted, a devious smile crossing his face. "And I like it that way."

"We're a perfect match," Ruri'iro agreed. "We get along better than our masters."

Hoozukimaru deferred. "Don't forget—it took them twenty years to mess up their friendship."

"That won't happen to us," Ruri'iro said with certainty.

"I think you're right." Hoozukimaru changed the subject at that point. Too much sentimentality was not for him, and in that way he was very much like his master. "So, this is your world? Nice, but kinda dark, isn't it? And what's that noise I keep hearing?"

"Those are peacocks," Ruri'iro Kujaku replied. "They're up on the cliffs. You can't see them from here."

"Peacocks. Huh, that makes sense." He took a long, hard look at Ruri'iro Kujaku. "If your name wasn't Kujaku, I'd still know you were a peacock."

Ruri'iro flushed with pleasure. "What are you?"

"You can't tell?"

"No, not really."

"I'm a dragon."

"Of course," Ruri'iro nodded appreciatively. "A dragon is very fitting for Madarame, although I think a jack-ass would have been more appropriate."

"That's my master you're talking about," Hoozukimaru warned before bursting into laughter. "But you're probably right."

The way the dragon's tiny eyes gleamed when he laughed was beguiling. His devil-may-care attitude suited Ruri'iro's flakiness perfectly. The peacock considered that he really and truly had found the ideal companion.

"I wonder—do you think I would be able to enter your world?" he asked curiously.

"I don't know. You could try. You can go down into the water and see—"

"I can't go into the water. It repels me," Ruri'iro stated.

"It repels you?" Hoozukimaru asked.

"I can't even put my hand In it." Ruri'iro Kujaku sighed. "It's puzzling, because it's my power, but only my master has access to it."

"Well, it's always your power that brings me, except this time, so I guess it makes sense that I would come through the water. But the funny thing is, I didn't get a drop on me. I was perfectly dry when I came up."

Ruri'rio looked baffled. "I don't know how to explain it."

"Why don't you see if you can go through it now? Maybe my passing through changed things."

Ruri'iro Kujaku leaned down and stretched out his hand, but no sooner had his fingers touched the surface than he was pushed back.

"I still can't do it."

"Maybe—maybe you have to go through the mirror. You said that's where you saw me. Maybe you can pass through the mirror."

Ruri'iro looked about him. There were several mirrors floating nearby. He went to the closest one and once again put out his hand. But it was only glass.

"I can't do it," he said. "I don't understand it. How are you able to come here, but I'm not able to leave? Especially if it's like you say, and it's me who is somehow bringing you here."

"I came on my own this time," Hoozukimaru stated. "As for why you can't leave . . . you just haven't figured out how to do it yet."

"Is it—is it normal for zanpakuto to be able to enter each other's worlds?" Ruri'iro asked.

Hoozukimaru shrugged. "Eh, I dunno. You're the only other zanpakuto I know."

Ruri'iro Kujaku looked sad and thoughtful. "I guess soon we're going to know many."

"If our masters are successful, you're right."

"As long as my master doesn't find more ways to limit me."

Hoozukimaru approached and ran a thick finger over one of the blue-black plaits of hair that hung down the side of Ruri'iro Kujaku's face. He'd never felt anything so soft, it was like silk. The violet eyes peering back at him shined like sun reflected on water. The body was as powerful as the reiatsu. He was even more beautiful in person than in the mirror. It didn't seem right that such a beautiful creature should feel such hurt and sadness.

"You have to stop letting it get to you," he advised. "You have a good master. So, he does some stupid things. My master does stupid things all the time. Just . . . be a good servant to him."

Ruri'iro sighed. "I don't know if I can anymore. I don't trust him anymore."

"Give it time. If he's going to be a Shinigami, he's going to have to rely on you—"

"He'll only use me in a partial release state—"

Hoozukimaru gave the hair in his hand a yank. "Hey, that's better than nothing. The point is he's going to need you."

"I have a good mind to disobey him . . . but I can't. I can't disobey him when he speaks the command, even the false command."

"So, problem solved. You can't change things, so why fret over it? Just give it time and soon he'll be all over you again."

Ruri'rio gave a small smile. He loved Hoozukimaru's gruff choice of words; they gave him hope and comfort.

"Mabye you're right."

Hoozukimaru glanced around him. "So, you got anything to eat in this place?"

* * *

><p>"This is very stupid," Yumichika said, shaking his head. "They're going to be able to tell we're not Shinigami."<p>

Ikkaku, walking beside him, was stolid and unmoved. "If you keep acting like this, then they _will_ notice. Just act like you belong."

"Act like I belong? Do I look like a Soul Reaper?" Yumichika snapped.

"Well . . . you do look a little on the delicate side, but you can pass," Ikkaku replied. "Just show some confidence. And if we get into a pinch, don't forget – I expect you to turn it on."

"I know, I know. Are you sure you won't be affected?"

"Sheesh, Yumichika, I don't want you to make them want to have sex with you. Just use enough to get them to let us by," Ikkaku said. "Now, be quiet. We're getting close. I don't want them to overhear us."

The gate they were approaching was on the south side of the Seireitei. It was a high single drop-door structure, reinforced with sekki-seki rock, unaffected by reiatsu, set into a wall at least six meters thick, a portion of which served as the gate guard quarters.

A smaller door was cut into the gate. This was for pedestrian traffic, and a fair number of souls were passing in and out on business.

Ikkaku had chosen that particular time of day, hoping to get lost in the crowds. Now, as he and Yumichika moved closer and closer to the gate, he felt his heart pounding against his ribs, and despite his reassurances to Yumichika, he himself feared that the Shinigami guarding the entrance would be able to feel his anxiousness. He noticed that, of the ten Soul Repears gathered at the door, it appeared that only two of them were on duty. The others seemed to be talking and laughing, just hanging out.

He and Yumichika fell in directly behind two other Shinigami who passed through the group with a pleasant exchange of greetings before going through the door.

But the easy passage did not extend beyond the two Shinigami. As Ikkaku and Yumichika passed the group of loiterers, one of them asked cordially, "Coming back from patrol?"

Ikkaku gave a curt nod. "Yeah."

Yumichika grimaced. Ikkaku was so un-Shinigami-like.

"Which district?" asked another.

While there was nothing in the question that would rouse any suspicions under normal circumstances, to Ikkaku in his deception, it felt like the start of an inquisition.

"Uh . . . forty," he replied.

Yumichika leapt in quickly. "Forty south."

"Forty south? I didn't know we had any squads out that way on patrol today," the first man said, adding with a careless shrug. "Too much going on to keep track of it all."

"We're just coming back," Yumichika replied. "We've been out that way for several weeks."

"What squad are you?" the first man asked.

"Eleventh Squad," Ikkaku replied.

"You're Zaraki's men?"

Now, all eyes were upon them.

Ikkaku felt the warmth come into his cheeks. He wondered if he were turning red.

"Yeah," he grunted.

"But the eleventh is in garrison," another Shinigami put forth. "I just saw them at formation this morning."

"That's where we're headed," Yumichika chimed in. He assumed an air of false dread. "And we're going to be in for it. We were supposed to be back a few days ago, but . . . well, we got mixed up with a hollow."

"A hollow? In Forty south? We didn't hear anything about it."

"You will, after we give our report," Yumichika stated.

Then, faced with the questioning and doubtful stares, he did what he had to do. He opened up the flood gates to let a small bit of his reiatsu flow through.

Even with the increased spiritual pressure of the Shinigami, Yumichika's reiatsu made short work of them.

"We're already going to be in trouble," he lilted, tossing his head and exposing the long line of his neck, inviting an almost hypnotic trance to descend upon the hapless Soul Reapers. "We really need to get inside and go see Captain Zaraki. Hopefully, he won't be so angry that he kicks us out and sends us to another squad."

He and Ikkaku passed through the gate. Once they were out of eye and earshot, Ikkaku slapped Yumichika on the back.

"That was beautiful! You were brilliant!"

Yumichika only grunted a sound that could not be interpreted as positive or negative.

"You know, maybe I was wrong. Maybe you will be able to be a Shinigami. I'll bet you can seduce your way right into an officer's seat," Ikkaku spouted gleefully.

Yumichika rolled his eyes in disgust. "If I'm going to be a Shinigami, I'm going to do it by earning the position, by whatever rules Zaraki has for his squad."

Ikkaku's smile broadened. "That's what I like to hear."

"Yeah, well, don't get too excited yet. Getting past those simpletons at the gate was child's play. I can feel the presence of a lot of very powerful reiatsus now that we're inside the wall. We'd better find Zaraki quickly before someone discovers we're not supposed to be here," Yumichika warned.

Right away they discovered that finding anything in the Seireitei was not going to be easy. It was easily a ten-day walk across the place, so the amount of ground to be covered was daunting. In the center of the city rose a steep towering plateau, topped with what looked like a castle and a narrow white tower.

It was towards this plateau that the two impersonators headed.

As they walked, they garnered no untoward attention. Yumichika smiled pleasantly. Ikkaku was too interested in taking in the sights to be rude or provocative.

"You can feel the spirit energy coming from every angle," Yumichika stated, sounding a bit awestruck. "But I think the most powerful Soul Reapers must keep their reiatsus under tight control. I don't feel anything stronger than Fuji Kujaku's spirit energy, but I know there have to be much stronger souls here."

"You're probably right. If they all let their spirit energy flow loose, who knows what trouble it could cause," Ikkaku agreed. "Zaraki's alone could devastate the whole place."

"That's an exaggeration," Yumichika chastened.

Ikkaku did not answer, so Yumichika went on.

"So, are you going to tell me what we're going to do when we find Zaraki?"

"We're going to tell him we want to join his squad," Ikkaku replied, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

"And if he says no?"

A grim smile came across Ikkaku's face. "Then I'll have to fight him to get in."

Yumichika made a derisive sound. "More nonsense. If you fight him, he'll kill you."

"Death wouldn't be so bad in that case."

Now, Yumichika could not stifle a groan. "I think you're being ridiculous."

Ikkaku was unperturbed. "Maybe I am, but you're here with me, so what does that say about you?"

Yumichika shrugged. "It's like you said. I can't let go."

Ikkaku actually chuckled. "Huh, I remember a time when you told me that_ I_ would be the one to keep coming back, that I wouldn't be able to resist you. I guess the tables have turned. "

Yumichika was silent. He didn't know what to say to Ikkaku's observation.

Ikkaku sensed that he had touched on a nerve. And he truly believed that in several days, he would be a member of Zaraki's squad, and Yumichika would be forced to depart. That parting was going to be hard enough on Yumichika; Ikkaku didn't want to add to the pain by being insensitive in the days leading up to it.

So, he added, in an attempt to smooth the waters, "Of course, I'm sure if you wanted to, you could still use your ability to seduce me."

Yumichika was blunt. "I don't want to."

And that was the truth.

* * *

><p>For three days, they moved on foot across the Seireitei, managing to avoid much attention. They were just two more Soul Reapers among thousands, a common sight not even worth an inquiry, although Yumichika's appearance turned every head they passed. They did not stop to sleep , and they ate on the move, using Yumichika's mesmerizing beauty to procure food from the enamored.<p>

And so, what would normally have been a five-day journey was undertaken in three.

It was early morning when they came to the part of the Seireitei that housed the Gotei 13. A high wall surrounded the facilities; and although it was not as high as the outer wall of the Seireitei, it was formidable. And once again, guards were present. Five of them stood at the gate. Four were clearly sentinels. The fifth appeared to be in charge, as he was standing in front of the others, giving instructions while the others listened and nodded attentively.

"I don't want to waste any time here," Ikkaku said quietly as he and Yumichika drew near. "Use your power right away."

They walked straight up to the small cluster of Shinigami. The one in charge turned to see who was approaching. He was a young man with dark hair, short-cropped and in some disarray; but it gave him a unique look, considering his features were classicly handsome. He smiled as he turned. The sight was charming, as were his manners.

"Let me guess . . . Fourth Squad."

"Eleventh," Yumichika replied amiably. He was enjoying the view.

"You must be new recruits," the man said. "Late on your first day? Captain Zaraki will skin you alive – if you're lucky." He shook his head. "Didn't they pound timeliness and discipline into you at the Academy? Honestly, what are they turning out these days? You two are probably the sixteenth or seventh newbies we've had show up late. Messing up on accession day isn't a good way to start."

"Fifth Seat Shiba, you know it probably won't make a difference in Zaraki's squad. He's always late to everything anyway," one of the guards put forth. "They may still be able to get there in time."

Fifth Seat Shiba nodded his agreement. "That's true. Tsk! You two had better flashstep your asses to the 11th's barracks."

"Flash—" Ikkaku began, but Yumichika cut him off.

"We definitely will," he said. "But, uh, can you point us in the right direction?"

The fifth seat smirked. "Rookies. So unprepared." He then proceeded to give them directions, ending with a genuine, "Welcome to the Gotei 13, and good luck with your captain."

After they had passed through, Ikkaku whispered, "I told you I didn't want to waste any time. Why didn't you just let it fly?"

"Because it wasn't necessary," Yumichika replied. "Honestly, Ikkaku, you'd better learn some patience. Not everything has to be snap-snap-snap. If you're going to be a Shinigami, you're going to have to act like one."

"Stop lecturing, and let's hurry!" Ikkaku replied.

They began a brisk run in the direction that had been pointed out.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the Squad Eleven barracks; and for a moment, Ikkaku stood motionless on the threshold, staring up at the wooden sign over the doorway, hardly able to believe that he was really there.

"I made it," he whispered.

"_We_ made it," Yumichika corrected. "And that's not quite true. We haven't made it yet." He moved over and peered inside one of the windows. "Everyone's just milling around. I don't see Zaraki."

Ikkaku took a deep breath and opened the door. He went inside as Yumichika followed him. Right away they were met by a large, broad man with long black hair tied back in a pony-tail. He was holding a clipboard.

"Names?" he asked without even looking at them.

"Ikkaku Madarame," Ikkaku replied. "This is Yumichika Ayasegawa."

After thirty seconds, the man looked up. "Your names aren't on my list of new recruits. Are you sure you're in the right squad?" He took in Yumichika's appearance and said in a snide voice, "We're only interested in strength and fighting ability here."

Yumichika tossed his head. "That's why you're getting us."

"Ha! Maybe him, but you—you're in the wrong place, I guarantee it," the clipboard holder derided.

Yumichika could sense Ikkaku's anxiety, but then he could hardly believe his ears.

"He's in the right place," Ikkaku stated. "Believe me, if you fought him, you wouldn't stand a chance."

"Oh, really?" Condescension dripped from the man's voice. "Somehow, I doubt that. I'm Fourth Seat Comatu, and I didn't get that position for no reason."

"Yeah? Well, I've seen him defeat a hollow—"

Yumichika snagged Ikkaku by the arm at the same time as unbridling some small part of his reiatsu. He could already tell that Fourth Seat Comatu was easy pickings.

"Which is why we're here," Yumichika twittered. "Captain Zaraki asked for us by name. That's why we're not on your list."

Comatu needed no more persuading. The sound of the voice speaking and the lure of the violet eyes was more than enough to make him change his mind.

"You can wait here until he arrives."

"Thank you, Fourth Seat Comatu," Yumichika said with a bow. Then he led Ikkaku to the far corner. "You almost blew it. Why did you tell him about me and the hollow?"

"Cause he was going to send us away," Ikkaku answered.

"He was going to send _me_ away," Yumichika corrected.

"No, he was going to send us both away, because our names weren't on his list. What the hell does he need a list for? Doesn't he recognize the men in his own squad?" Ikkaku grumbled.

"You weren't listening at the gate, were you?" Yumichika said. "Apparently, today is the day the latest graduates from the Soul Reaper Academy go to their new units. We got lucky."

Ikkaku only scowled.

"It worked to our advantage," Yumichika pointed out. "But I have something to ask you: why didn't you let him send me away? Why did you stand up for me? I thought you didn't want me here."

"I don't want you here," Ikkaku replied, "But if you're going to be sent away, I want it to be for the right reasons."

"The right reasons?"

"Yeah," Ikkaku said, looking across the room at forty or so new Shinigami chatting and awaiting the arrival of their first-ever captain. "They shouldn't assume you can't meet the standard. They have to at least give you the chance."

The way Ikkaku said these words made Yumichika think that Ikkaku was speaking of himself, as if somewhere in his past, he had wanted something and not even been given a chance but dismissed out of hand.

"So, if I get the chance, do you think I'll meet the standard?" Yumichika asked.

"From a fighting standpoint, yes," Ikkaku replied. "I don't know if—if you'll meet the standard of demeanor."

Yumichika understood what he meant. Glancing up and around the room, he didn't think this bunch looked so brutal. But then again, most of them were newcomers. This was their first assignment to a squad. They hadn't become Zaraki's men yet.

But one thing was for certain: they all had their eyes on the two oddballs in the far corner. They were probably wondering why they did not recognize them from the Soul Reaper Academy. And it occurred to Yumichika that even his small release of reiatsu had been felt by everyone in the room. They were not quite sure where it had come from – but apparently, they already had their suspicions.

Then his eye caught sight of something he had missed earlier. As two of the new Shinigami made their way past the window, he saw a tiny, round face peering inside.

"Ikkaku! Look – out the window. It's the girl who was with Zaraki," he said, nudging Ikkaku with his elbow.

Ikkaku looked over. Yumichika was right. The pink-hair and rosy cheeks gave her the appearance of a porcelain doll. Her expression, however, was one of consternation, as if she were not particularly pleased with what she saw.

She said something that Ikkaku could not hear which caused a new recruit near the window to proclaim, "What's a child doing here?"

Ikkaku grinned. Good thing Zaraki wasn't around to hear that statement.

But the child did not need anyone's help to defend her right to be there. In the next instant, she had somersaulted through the window, landing lightly on her feet. She was wearing the uniform of a Shinigami.

"Lieutenant Yachiru Kusajishi!" she announced with a broad, beaming smile.

A stunned silence filled the room – but only for a moment before the great wooden doors slammed open, drawing everyone's attention.

There he stood, looking at the occupants of the room with an expression that seemed to be a cross between disdain and fiery expectation.

A collective gasp of awe went up among the new squad members.

Just like the first time, Yumichika felt a sense of weight bearing down upon him. He had always been highly sensitive to spirit energy, and Zaraki's was almost stifling. It was much more powerful now than it had been before, even though Yumichika could tell that the man was suppressing vast reservoirs of it. Still, Zaraki's appearance had the effect of making him take an unconscious step backwards, pressing his back to the wall, as if he might be able to make himself smaller and less vulnerable to the crushing strength of an unseen assailant.

Beside him, Ikkaku's own excitement was overflowing. This was the moment towards which he'd been working; indefatigable, persevering, moving towards a sense of purpose. Now, here he was, and he had no regrets. This was the sum total of everything that had been denied him the world of the living – here for the taking. And he would take it – if given the chance.

"Ken-chan! Ken-chan!" The child, Lieutenant Kusajishi, crossed the room in one bound, ricocheting up to her perch on Zaraki's back in the same move.

"I'm the captain of Squad Eleven, Kenpachi Zaraki," he bellowed. Then as he strode across the room, "Listen up. I don't care where your from, how old you are, or what your record looks like. I'm not going to force you to stay here, but there's no guarantee I'll let you stay either."

He sat down on a bench along the wall. "I want one thing. What I want from you is strength. I like strong guys, guys who can fight."

That was all Ikkaku needed to hear to know he'd made the right decision, perhaps the best decision of his entire existence.

"So do I!" he called out.

Everyone turned towards the sound of the voice.

Ikkaku leaned away from the wall, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I came just like you told me to."

The other Shinigami parted as he walked forward.

Zaraki stared at him for a moment before a great, maniacal smile spread across his face.

Very quickly, Fouth Seat Comatu surged forward. "I'm sorry, Captain. Neither of them is on the list, and I was in the process of trying to get rid of them."

"Get rid of them?" Zaraki said. "Why, you're all looking at the luckiest man alive. You're looking at the only man to survive a battle with me."

Another awe-filled murmur circled through the room.

Zaraki gave Ikkaku a nod, prompting him to approach.

"So, you come here to try again? You're gonna try to kill me?" Zaraki gleamed.

"No," Ikkaku replied. "I came to join your squad. I heard you'd become a captain in the Gotei 13, and I wanted to fight under you."

"Is that so? You want to join my squad? You think you're worthy?" Zaraki's voice was close to scoffing.

"Yes," Ikkaku said readily.

"You're just as cocky now as you were then."

"You just said I'm the only man to survive a fight with you," Ikkaku answered. "I think that makes me worthy."

"Why aren't you on the list?" Zaraki asked, narrowing his eyes and enjoying the grilling.

"Because we didn't go through Soul Reaper Academy," Ikkaku replied, and it was now his turn at enjoyment. He knew this announcement would sit well with a man like Zaraki.

"We figured, if it was good enough for you to fight your way into command, it would be good enough for us to do the same," he said smugly.

Zaraki looked past him at Yumichika, who was still standing close to the wall, looking on with a meekness that would never pass muster.

"Him, too? You think he's going to fight his way into this squad?" Zaraki broke into laughter.

"If he can," Ikkaku replied, feeling somewhat offended by Zaraki's response, although he could not say why.

"Well then . . . I say it's time we find out if either of you are cut out to be members of Squad 11," Zaraki said, then raising his voice. "That goes for the rest of you, as well! And I can assure you, when we're done . . . some of you won't be part of this squad anymore."

* * *

><p>Yumichika looked around him at the Squad 11 training grounds. They were impressive, to say the least, looking as if they were the recipients of much use. Much violent use.<p>

And for the first time, he felt truly nervous. He considered that he may have been premature in thinking that his own spirit energy and his own fighting prowess would be strong enough to get him into the squad. Would he be able to prevail without the use of Ruri'iro Kujaku's full release?

"You!"

Yumichika turned at the sound of Zaraki's voice, but it wasn't directed at him. It was to Ikkaku that the captain had been speaking.

"You're first up," Zaraki announced. "And since you judge yourself to be worthy of busting into my squad, I'm going to let you shoot straight at the top."

At his pause, another man stepped out of the ranks of the now fully assembled squad, over 200 strong.

"This is Third Seat Himieal. If you beat him, the seat is yours. If you lose, you're out," Zaraki said casually.

"Out? Don't I get a try at a lower seat?" Ikkaku asked.

Zaraki chuckled. "Boy, you got some nerve. You sneak in, thinking you should just be given a seat. Well, I'm offering you one if you can earn it. But if you can't, then you don't deserve a try at a lower seat. That's for people who follow the rules." This statement made him laugh hard, for he knew—as did every member of his squad—that rules meant nothing to Kenpachi Zaraki. "You take the chance, you run the risk. You got one shot."

"How do we know who wins?" Ikkaku asked.

"First one to be disarmed loses," Zaraki answered. "No mortal wounds. No maiming."

Third Seat Himieal was already flexing his arms. "Captain, are we allowed to use shikai?"

"Definitely."

Fourth Seat Comatu stepped forward. "Take up fighting positions."

Ikkaku followed Himieal into the center of the dusty bowl.

_Shikai. Shikai._

He knew what shikai was – something the Soul Reapers did with their zanpakutos that turned them into something else. He'd seen it with Yumichika's zanpakuto, and he knew it could be devastating. He had to disarm Himieal before he had a chance to release. He needed to move quickly and decisively. One thing that was on his side: all the Shinigami seemed to be so overly confident in their abilities that they didn't see Ikkaku and Yumichika as threats. Ikkaku was counting on this arrogance to cause Himieal to lower his defenses.

And his counting paid off.

Third Seat Himieal was everything Ikkaku had been hoping for. Smug, disinterested, considering the whole thing to be a waste of time and an insult to his prowess. He entered the contest with a disdain for his adversary that could not be contained; and yet, it was his undoing.

Within thirty seconds of their first engagement, Ikkaku had dislodged his zanpakuto and sent it flying.

A stunned silence fell over the training ground, then a lone voice began crying out jubilantly.

"Baldy! Baldy! Yay, Baldy!"

Yumichika looked up to see the child—the lieutenant—sitting atop Zaraki's shoulder. It was she who was cheering and waving her arms in the air.

Third Seat Himieal turned plaintively to his captain. "That—that shouldn't count! We didn't even get started!"

Zaraki scowled. "Don't whine. You knew the stakes, just like he did. But you underestimated him and lost. If he'd been a real enemy, you'd be dead."

"But captain—"

"If you want to stay in this squad at all, you won't say another word," Zaraki warned. "Now, get out of my face. You're disgraceful. I may still kick you out. For now, just be happy if you end up in the lowest ranks."

As Himieal slinked away, Ikkaku came to stand in front of Zaraki. "So, can I call you captain now?"

Again, the grin of a lunatic spread across Zaraki's face.

Seeing this, Fifth Seat Comatu sprang forward. "Captain, what about the other disciplines? What about Hakuda and—"

"I said if he beat Himieal, the seat was his. I keep my word," Zaraki said with such an inflection that Comatu immediately stepped back with a contrite bow. "Besides, you shouldn't bother about that. You've got your own match now."

"My own . . . " Comatu looked over at Yumichika. "You don't mean him? Captain Zaraki, that's an insult!"

"Yeah, well, it's what you deserve for questioning me. Now, get out there and take your position," Zaraki ordered. He turned to Yumichika. "Try not to get killed."

Yumichika drew in a slow, deep breath.

These were uncharted waters he was entering. Here was his new beginning. A departure from everything that had come before.

It was the moment he either committed to being someone else or he let Ikkaku out of his life forever.

"I don't think that will be a problem," he said confidently then walked out to take his place.

Ikkaku watched him go. This was the moment where it all ended. Yumichika would be defeated, and he would be sent away from the Sereitei.

It hit Ikkaku like a blast of cold water.

He didn't want Yumichika to go. He wanted him to win this contest and stay. Even if things were chilly between them, he wanted Yumichika close by. He didn't know why. He didn't know what had changed his mind. He didn't care. He only knew that he wanted Yumichika to be within reach.

As it turned out, he needn't have worried.

While Comatu was thick and strong, capable of delivering punishing blows; Yumichika was nimble and light on his feet. He surprised Ikkaku by using the speed move more than once to elude attacks and sneak in for his own. Ikkaku had not realized how proficient he was at it. Comatu could not keep up with him.

The match lasted several minutes, ending with Yumichika neatly spiraling Comatu's sword from his hand. The Fourth Seat had refused to release his shikai, believing such a thing would have been embarrassing against such a lesser opponent. And Yumichika had not needed to release his. His speed and agility had been sufficient.

"Well, well," Zaraki nodded appreciatively. "Looks like you actually do know your way around a sword."

"Yes, I do," Yumichika replied.

"And you've got some flashstep," Zaraki went on.

_Flashstep. So, that's what it was called._

"He also has shikai," Ikkaku interjected. "He used it to defeat a hollow."

"Is that so?"

Yumichika assumed a pretense of casual indifference and merely shrugged.

Zaraki leaned close. "Now, that's interesting. Most Academy graduates don't even know their zanpakuto's name when they get assigned; but you not only know it, you have shikai." He paused for a moment then drew back with anticipation.

"So, let's see which one of you comes out on top!"

Yumichika was stricken.

Ikkaku was stunned. "You want me to fight him?"

"Is there a problem with that?" Zaraki asked. "It's not a fight to the death. Same rules apply. Only this time, whoever wins stays. The other is out." His expression was hard. "But let me tell you that I'll know if either of you is holding back, and if that happens, you'll both be outa here. Or I might decide to kill you both for wasting my time."

Yumichika looked to Ikkaku for some indication, but it was Ikkaku who was asking for permission.

"Yumichika?"

After a brief consideration, Yumichika nodded. They had already gone beyond the point of no return.

As they walked out to take their positions, Ikkaku said quietly. "Don't hold back, because I won't be."

"Even with shikai, I can't defeat you, Ikkaku," Yumichika stated. "Just don't break every bone in my body."

"I won't break even one."

Yumichika sighed. "I guess this is it, then."

Ikkaku surprised him by answering, "I'm not so sure about that. Just . . . make it a good fight."

They squared off and the contest began.

True to his nature, Ikkaku came at Yumichika from the outset with every bit of power he had, pounding and thrusting, driving Yumichika back almost to the rocky wall of the bowl. But then Yumichika used the flashstep to dodge the relentless onslaught and come in behind him. Ikkaku whirled around just as Yumichika reappeared. He barely managed to outstep the smaller man's envelopment, which would have ripped the sword right out of his hand, and he suddenly realized how superior a swordsman Yumichika had become. In fact, if he dared admit the truth, Yumichika was better than he was. What Yumichika lacked in strength, he made up in technique and wits.

If he wanted to defeat Yumichika in a game of disarmament, he was going to have to make this a battle of brawn. He was going to have to fight dirty.

For the next fifteen minutes, he looked for an opening. He could not risk engaging Yumichika with his sword for anything more than a lunge or a parry, for it was very clear that Yumichika was using the envelopment technique on every riposte in an attempt to dislodge the weapon from Ikkaku's hand. He was good at it, and it was only a matter of time, if he were given enough chances.

But then, Yumichika made a mistake. In the course of executing a tierce parry, he had allowed Ikkaku to close with him. Now, with their blades crossed at the hilts, Ikkaku was able to use his superior strength and weight to drive Yumichika back against the wall. And here, he wrapped the fingers of his free hand around the wrist of Yumichika's sword arm and began to force his arm down. He smashed Yumichika's hand against the rock wall behind him until the blood flowed, but Yumichika would not let go.

Yumichika actually had a vested interest in trying to win this match, even though he knew it was near impossible. If Ikkaku defeated him, Ikkaku would stay and he would have to go. It was that simple. But if he won, then he wouldn't stay unless Ikkaku stayed. If Zaraki accepted Ikkaku, even as the loser, then they would be together. If Zaraki sent Ikkaku away, Yumichika would go with him. Still together.

He had to win.

"Sake, Fuji Kujaku!"

The flash of light blinded Ikkaku for a moment. He felt his sword shift in his hand, and when his vision cleared, he was horrified to see his own blade caught between the scythe-like blades of Yumichika's zanpakuto. One twist of Yumichika's wrist, and the sword would be out of Ikkaku's hand in an instant.

He looked up to see Yumichika gazing down at him with sorrow in his eyes. Sorrow and hesitation. Yumichika had the victory right there at his fingertips, but he couldn't bring himself to take it.

Ikkaku had never been one to leave an opponent's weakness unexploited. And in this case, it almost seemed like Yumichika was hesitating on purpose, to give Ikkaku an opening against certain defeat.

Ikkaku clenched his left hand into a fist and gathered all his power for a convincing display. He drove his fist up directly under Yumichika's chin.

Yumichika's head snapped back, hitting the wall with violent force. He sagged forward into Ikkaku's arms. The sword fell from his hand, and as it did so, the original blade was restored.

"I'm sorry," Ikkaku whispered, but he knew Yumichika could not hear him.

* * *

><p>"Yumichika? Yumichika?"<p>

The voice sounded very far away.

"Come on, now."

That sounded a little bit closer. Ikkaku's voice.

"Wake up, come on. Yumichika, come on."

He opened his eyes. He was lying on a low bed in a brightly lit room, open on one side to the fresh air of a garden. Kneeling beside him, Ikkaku was the only other person in the room.

"Good," Ikkaku said in a voice that conveyed relief that he was trying not to show. "I didn't think I'd hit you that hard."

"Tell my head that," Yumichika groaned. It was clear that Ruri'iro Kujaku had not worked any of his healing powers during his master's state of unconsciousness.

Ikkaku cocked his head to one side. "I'm sorry. I had to do it."

"I know," Yumichika replied.

"You were about to defeat me," Ikkaku went on. "It was only your hesitation that gave me the opening."

"I know," Yumichika repeated.

Ikkaku eyed him curiously. "Did you do it on purpose?"

"No." Yumichika raised his hand to his chin. It hurt to touch it. "I wanted to win. I just wasn't fast enough." He winced as he ran his fingers over the bruised flesh.

Ikkaku reached out and pressed his arm down. "Don't touch it. Just let the swelling go down." He paused. "How come it isn't healing like it usually does?"

"Fuji Kujaku is still mad at me," Yumichika answered. "I guess he didn't want to heal me. I guess it will just have to go at the normal pace." He looked away. "So . . . I guess I'm out of here."

"Guess again."

Yumichika raised his eyes questioningly. "What?"

"Congratulations, Fourth Seat Ayasegawa."

"Fourth . . . . Seat . . . "

"Well, you didn't expect to place higher than me, did you?" Ikkaku grinned.

"I—I didn't expect to make it at all," Yumichika replied, sounding bemused. "I'm—I'm a Shinigami now?"

"Yep. So, it's time for you to start putting that thing to real use," Ikkaku replied, nodding towards Yumichika's zanpakuto, which was propped against the wall near the bed.

"You're . . . third seat?" Yumichika asked. "But you don't—you don't—well, don't you need a zanpakuto?"

"Zaraki doesn't care about that," Ikkaku snorted. "All that matters to him is whether or not a man can fight. And I can fight with or without a zanpakuto. As for all that other shit . . . I can learn it. If he thinks I need to know it, I'll learn it."

This was too much for Yumichika to take in. His head was pounding. His senses were overwrought. Once again, he raised his hand, this time towards the back of his head, which hurt like hell.

Ikkaku caught his hand just as his fingers touched something gauzy over his scalp.

"What—what's this?" he asked.

Ikkaku grimaced. "Well, uh . . . when I hit you, your head went back and hit the rock wall. It, uh, it kind of split the skin open. And since it wasn't healing, the medics . . . ." The grimace was giving way to a grin that he was trying to keep under control but without success. "They had to shave away part of your hair in the back to get to it—"

"What? What!" The pain was forgotten in the outrage and indignity of the moment. He yanked his hand free and with both hands, felt over the back of his head. "Oh my—how much did they cut? The whole back of my head is covered in bandages!"

Ikkaku snickered as he secured both hands, drawing them up against his chest. "You're still beautiful, so stop being hysterical." A light shone in his eye. "You know, you'd better make good with Fuji Kujaku. As a Shinigami, you're going to need his healing ability. And his fighting abilities."

"I can handle Fuji Kujaku," Yumichika stated, although he didn't believe his own words. "I just . . . I can't believe this. After all I've been through . . . to end up a Shinigami . . . "

Ikkaku's manner was sincere. "Thank you."

" . . . and under a man like Zaraki . . . " Yumichika rambled on.

Ikkaku squeezed his wrists a bit tighter. "Yumichika . . . without you, I never would have found him. Without you, I never would have gotten in here to show him I could be one of his squad members. So, I mean it: thank you."

Yumichika managed a smile. "Don't thank me. I didn't want to do it."

"I know," Ikkaku said. "That's what makes it worth so much more than I can ever give you in return."

"Well, I know how you can start," Yumichika proposed.

"What? Name it."

"You can tell _our captain_ that someone else can have the Fourth Seat. If I can't have the number three, I want the next most beautiful thing."

Ikkaku regarded him dumbfounded for a moment. "Wh-what?"

"Third Seat belongs to you. Four is too ugly. I want the Fifth Seat."

"You—you want to go down in placement?"

"I won't associate myself with an ugly number," Yumichika sniffed.

Ikkaku remembered why he held this man in such affection. "You are the weirdest person I've ever known." He nodded. "Okay, I'll tell the captain. Fifth Seat it is."


	34. Chapter 34 Post-Script

This chapter has no content. Since Yumichika is reappearing in the manga again (and looking pretty good at it, I might add), I wanted to move this story back up in the listings. I'm sorry if I got anyone's blood going!


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